Inevitable
by Trogdor19
Summary: This is set mid-Season 3 with an original plot that departs from canon. Damon has a new plan to kill Klaus. Elena's trying to win Elijah over to their side, get Stefan back on animal blood and figure out her growing feelings for Damon. Romance, action, angst, steam, something for everyone!
1. In her bed

_Author's Note: This chapter is a play off the cozy scene at the end of 03x08, when Damon shows up in Elena's bedroom and instead of tossing him out, she ends up just falling asleep next to him. This fic series starts out with a couple of sweet extra scenes to episodes 03x08 Ordinary People and 3x09 Homecoming, takes a detour into steamy-hot Damon fighting back for what he wants, and then goes fully into an original plotline after 03x12 The Ties that Bind._

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Vampire Diaries or any of its characters, dialogue or plot. Warnings for adult language._

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**DAMON POV**

I am exactly where I want to be: Elena Gilbert's bed.

"Damon, seriously?"

She comes out of the bathroom and makes a good show of being indignant, but I don't miss the fact that she doesn't even twitch with surprise to see that I've snuck into her room again, even though that used to startle a full scream out of her.

I have good news to share, but mostly I just wanted to see her for a few minutes at the end of a long day. I hadn't been crazy about letting her wrangle with Rebekah without backup. Rebekah practically wears a sign that says "I need a friend!" but she's still an Original. Still a risk.

I wanted to see with my own eyes that Elena made it through that little negotiation unscathed. So after meeting Mikael (who was predictably a jerk) and then cheering myself up by kicking my kid brother's ass, I stopped by the boarding house, shotgunned a few blood bags, and headed straight for the Gilbert house.

I don't normally need so much blood to recover from a night of drinking, but then Mikael is different from most people in that his version of a handshake involves rearranging my internal organs.

Even so, I'm feeling smug, so I give it to her without a drumroll. "We got Mikael."

"What? How?"

"No idea. I guess Katherine came through. The plan's in motion. See, I told you I _had_ it."

I can't resist rubbing it in a little. Even Elena has to admit it's impressive that I got the world's best vampire hunter on our side. Especially considering I am a card-carrying member of the species he has vowed to destroy.

"Go ahead, kick, yell, scream, I know you've been planning your rant all day." She wouldn't yell at me half so often if she knew how cute it was.

She gives me a sharp look, but says, "I'm not going to yell at you."

"Why not? I went behind your back, freed Stefan. And you know what, it backfired. He's an even bigger dick than ever, it's just that now, he's a dick that's on our side."

"I'm not mad, I'm tired. I'm just-, I want to go to bed."

I should go, but I feel like after all the work I put in today, I deserve a little more Elena-time. Especially since she's wearing one of those lacy little tank tops. I deserve a _lot_ of Elena time with her dressed like that.

So I just keep talking and don't budge. "You know, I think Mikael's weapon is a stake because he said something about it."

She's jerking on the covers with half-hearted irritation, but she still bites the lure I'm dangling.

"Then it must have been carved from the white oak tree before they burned it down."

"Then I was right. After all that, the wall led us to Mikael," I say, because obviously no one is going to appreciate my brilliance if I don't lay it all out in bulleted points for them.

Elena gives up on dislodging me and crawls into bed next to me.

She turns to face me, her voice losing its frustrated edge. "It led us to more than that. I think it got Rebekah on our side."

I like the sound of that. "Really? What did you learn from her?"

Elena's got that look of troubled sympathy that tells me she's managed to find something to like about even shallow, vicious Rebekah. Don't get me wrong, Elena's a great ambassador. The problem is that she comes back from every treaty feeling like she's made a new friend. I've been waiting for the 'Klaus really isn't that bad' speech for a while now.

Sure enough, she doesn't disappoint.

"I learned that she's just a girl and she lost her mom too young, and she loves recklessly and blindly even if it consumes her."

I watch her, wondering if she's talking about herself or Rebekah. Other than the girl part, she could just as easily be talking about me or Stef, too. Love will probably destroy Rebekah in the end, since she's chosen to focus it on her psycho brother. I decide not to follow that train of thought to its logical end.

"And when all's said and done, nothing is more important than the bond of family," Elena says softly.

"You should tell my brother that."

Stefan was an ass tonight, pretending he didn't care about Mikael threatening me, even though that act was as transparently fake as Caroline's smile.

Elena smiles a bit at my comment, and then it fades.

I realize too late that I shouldn't have brought up Stefan again. I figure Elena's probably pissed at me for wasting all of her and Ghost Lexie's detox efforts, even if she is too tired to lecture me for it. Not to mention there is more than a fair chance that she'd figure I let Stefan loose so he'd go off on another ripper binge and eliminate himself as my romantic competition.

"I'm not mad at you for letting him out, Damon."

Apparently I hadn't given her enough credit. She seems more weary than annoyed. I like her tone, though. More and more lately, she relies on me. It is fun to scheme and plot, to have something more to play with than my latest snack. It doesn't hurt that my sidekick is so easy on the eyes. I wonder if there is any way I can justify getting her into a little catsuit. Maybe if I tell her it will be easier to fight in than her tight jeans and lacy camisoles.

She reaches over and switches off the lamp. What is this? This should have been the time for her to boot me through the door, not turn off the light and snuggle in closer. I am suddenly grateful for her weak human ears that can't pick up the response of my pulse. I turn toward her, fine with getting the most mileage I can out of this little slumber party.

She doesn't seem to have anything fun in mind though. Her voice is all resignation as she tells me, "I think you're going to be the one to save him from himself. It won't be because he loves me. It'll be because he loves you."

My eyes flicker. Oh really?

"Can I tell you the rest tomorrow?" she asked.

Not 'Get the hell out of my bed?' No tears that Stefan doesn't love her enough to curb his decapitation habit? Maybe the best part is the easy assumption that I'll be around tomorrow and we'll work it out together.

Something in my stomach loosens and relaxes. "Sure," I tell her, my voice soft as a bedtime story.

Her long eyelashes sweep down and I settle my head deeper into her feather pillow. I feel a crazy, masculine surge of pride that I am, if not exactly invited, then at least welcome to stay in her fluffy white bed with its delicate, cherry-print sheets. Her breathing deepens and that fast, she's asleep.

My eyes dilate. I'm strangely turned on by the trust implicit in that act. Silly Elena, falling asleep next to a predator with all her rich blood and soft skin unguarded. Ric's training isn't going to get her anywhere unless she grows a little cynicism. Maybe tomorrow I'll try to instill some.

I am perfectly content to watch her sleep and have a little fantasy that involves the two of us and her being exhausted for a very different reason, but somehow my thoughts drift to Stefan instead.

I frown at the memory of Elena's proclamation. It reeks of giving up, if not on Stefan than at least on her belief in her effect on him. Maybe Stefan sucked some of the Pollyanna out of her when Klaus compelled him to have a taste. Granted, being chased down a dark school hallway is bound to make you feel like prey. And prey probably doesn't sound all that good with 'soulmate.' I feel a squeeze of regret at the image. I shouldn't have let Katherine lure me off, even if I was rightfully pissed at the time.

It is funny in a way, because Katherine is still definitely my type: that delicious doppleganger body piloted with the kind of sexual confidence that always catches my eye. Not to mention that she can find the fun in any situation. Usually at someone else's expense, but still, that girl kept herself entertained through the centuries. She never let being on the run turn her all angsty.

Still, the attraction isn't just faded or twisted into equally passionate hate. It is just flatly gone, like when you look at a corpse of a loved one and you know all the important parts, the parts that held the two of you together, are missing from that body.

Is Elena tired of trying to stay in love with a version of Stefan that has ducked out the back door, or is she just nursing a hurt ego that she can't play savior? Is she giving up on saving him or loving him?

I watch her, wishing I could pluck answers from her head as easily as I could invade her dreams, if I was so inclined. I could, I realize. Compel her to tell me, and then compel her to forget. If she even knows the answers herself.

It doesn't matter, though. She might be tired of him now but if he comes crawling back, weak with squirrel blood and self-hatred, she will Mother Theresa right up.

I roll my eyes in the darkness. What did I do to deserve all the fucking martyrs in my life?

Elena huffs a little sigh and wiggles in her sleep, nestling closer into my side and taking a deep breath. My eyebrows shoot up. If she was a vampire, that little move would be her enjoying my scent. Do humans do that? I can't remember anymore.

I know she wants me here, takes comfort in having me close. Given her failure to toss me out before turning off the light, I'd say she might even admit it soon. If I wake her up with a kiss, I figure it for nearly even odds whether she'd slap me or kiss me back. It might be diverting to roll those dice.

Instead of gambling, I look back at the ceiling. The issue is that I know something that Klaus doesn't know. Stefan and his humanity aren't exactly separate things. Like any good Puritan he spends all his time chasing a standard of morality that has no respect whatsoever for his most innate desires and urges. But his addiction to taking life and his abhorrence of the same act are both essential ingredients to the ink that writes the Saga of Stefan.

Besides, he is still making passionate, misguided love to his bottle of hair gel every morning, so there has to be some hint of original personality left even though the morality switch has been firmly turned to 'Off.'

The other thing about Stefan that is bothering me is about blood.

Drinking blood has a lot of similarities to sex, which is why they go so nicely together. One of those similarities is that it is a completely different act with someone you care about. Love intensifies and makes poignant the gift, sacrifice, or theft of blood. The scent of Elena's un-spilled blood from my current position is intoxicating enough to make my head spin if I pay attention to it. That kind of Vampire Harlequin stuff is just the sort of altar St. Stefan lives to martyr himself upon.

Therefore, it doesn't make sense that after Klaus erased his humanity Ripper Stefan didn't try to have even a nibble of Elena. Sure, he fed when Klaus ordered it but once Klaus left town, Stefan's fangs stayed safely in his mouth. He is still himself, however outwardly changed. Only now his noble impulses are expressed more like…well, more like mine, actually.

He told me in the bar that he wanted to kill Klaus so that he could leave town. If Stefan only wants to leave town, that means he's leaving her for me. Because he knows I'll take care of her whether or not she wants me to. Still, he hasn't mentioned that killing Klaus will also save her, and even I'm not sure if that is still a consideration for him or not.

Of course he also hasn't said he wants to off Klaus so he can kill Elena himself, or even just keep her for a special-occasion blood slave, like a bottle of Dom Perignon you can keep sipping on for years.

The heightened scent of Elena's blood and the fangs pricking my lower lip forcibly remind me that I have an opinion about that scenario, hypothetical though it might be. I reach down and lay a feather-light hand on her hair, the physical reassurance of her safety enough to allow my vampire aspect to recede.

I can respect Stefan's wishes, let him go off to pillage and plunder at will, and possibly I can even get the girl as a bonus if I'm very good. Or I can try to save him and attempt to balance out his bipolar personality again, the way Elena and I briefly managed to last year. Lexie did it a couple of times.

I feel a pang of regret that I killed her. Actually, I liked Lexie even though she'd never gotten fond of me. It's unfortunate that I was in a contrary mood when she was visiting and I'd happened to need a vampire to sacrifice.

This time, if I 12-step Stefan back into his life, I think the guilt might destroy him. He won't just make a religion out of atonement as he has before. This time, I can't imagine him triumphing over the shouting of his guilty little conscience.

The problem is Elena. She is such a perfect fit to Stefan's particular set of neurosis. She makes him want to be a better man, she tempts the hell out of the Ripper, and she makes everyone on earth feel like they're probably not good enough for her.

That means that Stefan will either want to keep living because his death will hurt Elena, or her doe eyes will be a mirror that he can't stand to see himself in and he will finally turn the corner from martyr to fully suicidal.

The ripper isn't something he can dismiss as not his true self because even at his bunny-sipping best, he feels the urge to kill and tear and butcher. I know he does, because I _know_ the siren song of listening to a heart as you drain it to a weaker and weaker beat. The feeling of complete power if you decide to take that last sip and claim the life, the person, as your predator's due. I love it. Stefan, who felt everything too much even before he was a vampire, lives for it.

Either way, even if I could stomach drying him out for long enough to make a difference, I can't yet engineer a result that will convince him to live out the rest of his dull, diary-clutching existence. I leave it for now. Plenty of time for me to think up something clever later.

I should get going. I have a notion to get a pair of racy panties before I leave and drape them on Elena's teddy bear like an outrageous scarf before tucking the bear in next to her. My cock twitches at the thought of choosing a pair. Elena owns a whole drawer full of Victoria's laciest, raciest Secrets. The bear stunt will ensure that she'll get all huffy and indignant when she wakes up in the morning instead of brooding over whatever Vampire History Channel Special Rebekah had revealed last night.

Elena makes a kind of moaning-sigh in her sleep and lays her little hand on my chest. My eyes flare as I look down at it. She does have a way of making a man feel ten feet tall and like he should rescue puppies and open homeless shelters. Definitely wasted on the likes of me. Still, better not to move and wake her up.

I settle deeper into her pillowy comforter and cover her hand with mine. The quiet of the Gilbert house is unexpectedly peaceful. My eyes drift closed and my body relaxes into Elena's bed.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I feel her get up and shuffle sleepily into the bathroom. I left the toilet seat up earlier, not because I'd used it but just to yank her chain. Instead of a shriek I just hear the click as she lowers it. Huh. She must be too asleep to notice or remember that I'm here, and she just blamed Jeremy for leaving it up. Better take off before she comes back and I scare the hell out of her.

I slip reluctantly out of her bed and through her window, jumping silently to the tree branch that is my highway into her private space. Through the open window I hear her come back into the room and pause.

"Damon?" she says. Guess she knew I was there after all.

"Damon?" she asks again, and I don't know if it is my ears or my ego hearing the hint of disappointment in her tone. I drop noiselessly to the ground and disappear into the woods, a smile touching my lips.

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_Author's Note: Please leave me a review/comment and let me know what you thought of the chapter. I love to hear any and all reader feedback._


	2. Strange as you are to me

_Author's Note: This starts during a scene out of 03x09 "Homecoming" and continues after the scene on the show cut off. This is right after Damon and Mikael tried to kill Klaus and Stefan stopped Damon, allowing Klaus to kill Mikael._

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Vampire Diaries or any of its characters, dialogue or plot. Warnings for adult language and violent references, for this chapter and the whole story to come._

DAMON POV

"We blew it," I say grimly, feeling everything that this means.

If we're lucky, we'll get another shot. If we're not lucky, Klaus will have killed us all by tomorrow. My brother is such an asshat. At least in the past he's always been a predictable asshat.

"Where's Katherine?" Elena asks.

She's bewildered by this whole mess. It's like my epic failure can't even sink into her head. That's how epic it is. Elena always thinks the best of everyone. She's probably incapable of even processing a fuck up of this magnitude.

"She ran for the hills as soon as things got bad, as usual, and who could have blamed her? Klaus would have crushed her!"

I had been proud to even have talked Katherine into helping instead of hiding and letting us do her dirty work. I'm pretty sure she saw through my bluff that we wouldn't do it unless she would shield Elena. She knew we didn't have a choice, but she came anyway. I guess I'm so stupid that Katherine and Stefan can both surprise me.

"This is my fault." Maybe if I spell it out for her, she'll shout at me, which would feel really good just now. God I wish I had someone to fight. "I had him. I had Klaus. This could have all been over!"

I feel the rage twitching through my muscles and I hurl the bottle into the fire with enough force to shatter a crane, at a loss for something, some_one_ more satisfying to break.

"Hey, Hey, Listen to me." Elena steps close and I'm not sure she should even stand next to me right now.

The anger in me feels endless, like the power in that alone could create a cyclone around me that would rip her to shreds. Then she puts her hands on my neck, holding me with a softness that short-circuits me for a second.

"We'll survive this. We always survive. Trust me."

She said we. She and I are in this together.

It's true, we're in everything together these days but I can't even feel joy that she accepts it. Because _we_ doesn't include my traitorous fuck of a brother. Coming from Elena, that should make me happy, but it just feeds despair to my anger.

"We're never getting Stefan back. You know that, don't you?"

Does she? Does she understand what this means at all?

"Then we'll let him go. Ok? We'll have to let him go." Her voice breaks a little but I think she believes that she means it.

God, she sounds old for an eighteen-year-old. How can she say that? Elena, with all her forever-love and soulmate crap, her and Stefan running around acting like the old married couple of the Mystic Falls community for the last year. How can she let him go and I can't?

My phone rings. I don't give a shit what anybody has to say but I answer it anyway because my brain just locked up its brakes at Elena's announcement and I can't think of a thing to say to her.

I make the mistake of looking at the caller ID and my mouth tightens. This is not going to help. "Not interested in a play by play of our failure right now, Katherine."

"I just called to say goodbye," she tells me, and then she's trying to make me feel better about my plan but doing it in her detached voice. Katherine never calls to say goodbye. Why the hell did she show up in the first place?

I try to talk to her, but I'm looking at her twin. What is Elena thinking that would make her say that? Does she believe that he's gone for good? Hell, Stef and I haven't really been close since 1864. Is it possible she knows him better than I do? He's sure acting like a lost cause but I feel like I have been compelled, so complete is my inability to give up on him.

Something is off in Katherine's tone and I realize she must be as disappointed as I am. I don't know why she's not screaming at me for my crap aim, since it would have saved both of us the slow and creative death we're likely to get once Klaus gets around to it. Self-serving as she is, she showed up for me today.

I look away from Elena, dropping my voice a little.

"Take care of yourself, Katherine." I'm surprised to find that I mean it. I hang up and catch Elena watching me speculatively. Wheels are turning under all that shiny hair but I'm too tired and pissed off to try and figure her out right now.

I get a fresh drink and scowl at the fire. I hear Elena finally turn away and take a seat on the couch.

That feels odd to me. It takes me a minute to figure out why, but in the end I guess it is because everyone always comes here when they want something and leaves when they don't. Usually they are just on their way to see other people: Stefan, Jeremy, Elena, Tyler. I shake that thought off like a bad smell and roll a sip of scotch around my tongue.

I consider that Klaus took the compulsion off of Stefan, which means he should be running about mid-grade crazy, not full-on Joker. But he hasn't poked his poufy little head up yet, so either he's out getting his hair shirt fitted or drowning his sorrows in Sorority Chainsaw Massacres IV. Either way, I don't give a damn. If I see his face again I'm going to pound all the pretty right out of it.

A sound. I tune back into the room and it is too quiet.

I turn and Elena's sitting on the couch, utterly silent tears rolling down her cheeks. My shoulders slump. If she's crying about Stefan, there's nothing I can offer her. I won't make any more false promises on his behalf.

"Elena?"

She blinks rapidly and starts wiping ineffectually at her face, as if I've never seen her cry before.

"I'm okay."

The flow of tears is in no way diminished by her swipes.

I wince and shake my head in disagreement.

I venture just close enough to hand her my handkerchief. I know it's been out of style for a long time to carry one, but it's better than trying to fit a package of baby wipes in your pocket to clean up stray blood. Talk about unmanly.

"It's nothing." She sniffles.

It took me sixty years to figure out what to do with a crying woman, and I only learned reluctantly. They want you to hold them apparently, tears and snot and all. But with Elena and me, that was a door I'd never been invited inside.

"Nothing new, I mean. It's just…everything. It's too much sometimes. I'm sorry, Damon, you shouldn't have to deal with this. I'll go."

Would it be pussy to pass this one off to Ric? He'd been married, he might have learned a thing or two.

"No," my stupid mouth says. "Stay."

Her lips twist and a sob breaks free. "I'm just so _tired_ of all of this. The scheming and the constant worrying about Stefan and you and Jeremy, and I miss _Jenna."_

Oh shit. She is into the ugly, hard sobs now. I pick up the blanket off the back of the couch. It is chenille, and a little cheap compared to the rest of the furnishings, but I let it stay because Elena brought it over months ago. She is so skinny she can get cold in front of a roaring fire. I wrap it around her shoulders now, tucking it tightly so that it will embrace her for me. I should buy her a better one, something softer, warmer.

"Now's not the time to feel guilty about everyone that Klaus has hurt, Elena. He was an evil bastard for hundreds of years before you came around. One of these days very soon I'm going to kill him for you, but until that happens I'd prefer it if you didn't make yourself a whipping boy for his non-existent conscience."

She is nodding but she is still crying. I am distracted for a second by the thought that she'd included me in her list. I'd be insulted that she thought she had to worry about me, but there is a certain fascination in the idea that some of those crystalline tears are because she cares about me. At least one or two of them.

She blows her nose and I watch her delicate shoulders shake with grief, more than a little out of my element. For a second I consider what Stefan would do, but that kicks the anger in my gut back to life. Little bro and I have an appointment with a tire iron later on.

How about 1864 Damon? Would he be any better at this than I am? That finally gives me an idea and I sit on the coach and pull Elena down, blanket and all, to lay her head on my lap.

"Damon, what?"

"Shhh," I tell her, arranging the blanket to better cocoon her shoulders. "You've killed your quota of vampire Homecoming queens for the day. You've earned your rest."

"As if I could go to sleep right now."

"Just try," I tell her, and then I start to sing. I pitch my voice to a low octave, deliberately keeping it husky, intimate.

"You can sing?" she interrupts in obvious shock, turning to look up at me.

I smirk patronizingly. "_Everyone_ used to be able to sing until stereos and studio mixing made everybody go all chickenshit. It's like sex: you can be born to it, or you can practice up, but everyone can be good at it if they want."

"Which are you?"

I grin, happy that she walked into that little trap. "Honey, I was born to make love, but a little practice never hurt anybody."

"Da_mon!_" she protests, glaring at me with just enough resignation to tell me she kind of likes it that I'm predictably bad. I'm starting to like that face as much as her rare smile.

"Shut up and listen politely," I tell her. "Not everybody gets a private Salvatore concert."

Actually, any vampire can sing: with our hearing and perfect control over healthy vocal cords, it's a cinch, but I'm not averse to having her think me unique in my talents.

With only a second to think and all love songs and anything loud out of the running, I settle on a lullaby from my own time. It's been out of fashion for over a century and I bet she's never heard it.

I've sung my way into more than a few sets of panties, though I've got a bit of a different angle tonight. Elena doesn't know this about me, but one of my favorite ways to kill time used to be to reveal myself to a woman at my violent, horror-movie best (by killing her boyfriend, if I'm in the mood for a challenge) and then slowly seducing her into trusting me and then eventually giving herself to me, compulsion-free. Singing is about a mid-course tactic for softening them up. For some reason, they assume that men that sing are sensitive and I am not going to correct the assumption.

I am also not ever going to tell Elena about this hobby of mine. I was grouchy when I got to Mystic Falls, so I short-cutted Caroline with compulsion. She's not really my type, anyway. After that, I was so busy with all the drama that this town attracts that I didn't choose a new candidate. I made do with distractions and I flirted with Elena just for fun, but I'd never seriously tried to seduce her. Once I realized I didn't want to use her to get back at Stefan, I'd turned the charm into the negative numbers to try and keep myself out of trouble.

She's calmer after the lullaby.

"You know, in case I didn't mention earlier, you daggering Rebekah was a little bit amazing."

"Yeah, right before she was getting all teary about her first Homecoming dance," Elena groans. "I'm going to hell."

I laugh. "Yeah, right. Catfights, though. So _hot._ Only way it could have been better would be if you were wearing less."

"Damon, you're such a tool."

I tuck her hair behind her ear so I can see her face better.

"You're probably the only human in history to dagger two Originals. Three, if you count Mikael, but he was kind of a freebie." This thought cheers me. Why not celebrate the good parts? Leave the brooding to the professionals.

"We may not have gotten our money's worth out of Mikael, but it can't be a bad idea, given my luck, to have a legendary vampire hunter out of the way. And Rebekah?" I snort. "Any centuries-old vampire who finds cheerleading interesting can't be mentally stable. Ergo, it is nice to have her safely daggered."

I sing her a little Meatloaf, "_Cause two out of three ain't bad…"_

It swells my head to hear her sniffly giggle. Seriously, any singer that names himself after an ambiguous meat product has to be good for a laugh.

I run with the ball, twanging my way through "Friends in Low Places," which drags her all the way from giggling to laughing.

She's not half-bad company, even if she is inclined to the waterworks. God knows she's had reason enough to cry since the Salvatores came to town. I rest one hand gently on her shoulder, squeezing a little. She responds by snuggling closer into my lap.

I need another quiet song. I pick something new this time, "My Lady's House" by Iron and Wine. Great middle-of-the-night-sipping-red-wine music. As soon as I start, though, I remember that the lyrics are maybe more applicable than they should be. One section reminds me of last night, watching Elena curl into my side.

"_It is good in my lady's house_

_every shape that her body makes_

_love is a fragile word_

_in the air on the length we lay."_

Despite all the poetry that used to be standard to the curriculum in the 19th century, I rarely have the patience for interpretive reading. Maybe I just needed a fire, a girl, and a maudlin kind of introspective mood. For whatever reason, the next line never caught my attention before, but tonight it starts to make sense.

"_No hands are half as gentle or_

_firm as they'd like to be."_

I look down at my hand on Elena's shoulder, inept at giving comfort, and apparently, at placing a stake in just the right place to pierce a black vampire heart. I smirk a little that I managed to choose lyrics that mock me, and then lose the smile as I remember the next line.

"_Thank God you see me the way you do_

_Strange as you are to me…"_

My voice wants to go rough on these words, but I don't allow it less than perfect pitch. I hope she's asleep. I hope that she isn't.

Either way, she says nothing, and when I finish, I listen to her breathing for a second. She's asleep. Maybe in the morning she'll be ready to face this whole mess again.

As I watch her sleep with tears dried on her cheeks, I catch myself humming and recognize the tune to "Amazing Grace." It's cliché now, but it's always been a beautiful song, and I can really carry it if I'm in the mood, which I haven't been in 150 years. Since David caught a musket ball in the face and I left the Confederate Army, I suddenly remember.

I sang it at his funeral before I went home, met Katherine, and made an enemy of my brother. I let the last few bars fade into silence and then listen to the crackling of the fire while I watch Elena sleep, my anger gone for the moment, my mind quiet.

_Author's Note:Please leave me a review/comment and let me know what worked for you or didn't work for you about this chapter. I hope you enjoyed the Iron and Wine song…_


	3. Dawn of a new day

Author's note: This scene is from Damon's POV, but I'll be switching to Elena's very soon, because it's just more fun in the bedroom when we can enjoy Damon from her point of view. This is all going to get very twisty, romantic, angsty, steamy as hell, and then suspenseful in the next few chapters. Enjoy the ride!

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"Damon?"

I smile at her sleep-roughened voice, and at the fact that she's not guiltily sneaking out after realizing she slept next to me for the second night in a row. I would love to hear the machinations her conscience is going through trying to justify all this while still pretending to be in love with Steffie dearest.

Instead of answering, I let a pan clang against the stove to let her know where I am.

She shuffles into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand like a little kid. So she doesn't wake up all puffy-eyed after a night of crying. Hmmm. Must be good genes.

"You know, I'd like this little morning-after scene a lot better if you were wearing just one of my shirts, maybe half-buttoned." I flare my eyes and let half a smile settle onto my lips. "Wanna grab a quick change? I'll let you have a do-over on your entrance."

"_Damon,_" she glares. "It wasn't like that and you know it." She ruins the ferocity of the glare by yawning, covering her mouth with a hand half-hidden in the sleeve of her shirt. "Is there any coffee?"

"Might be some wake-up juice over there," I nod toward the far counter. "How do you like your eggs?"

She picks up one of the black matte ceramic coffee mugs and raises it to her mouth. I wince and blur over to the other side of the kitchen, stopping within kissing distance of her to pluck the mug out of her hands before she can drink. She flinches at my appearance and blood spills all down her shirt.

"Ah, that is the Kona roast AB-," I shake my head. "Not for the kiddies."

I set the mug down on the counter behind her and she watches me warily. I smile.

"Looks like you need that shirt after all. Third drawer down, upstairs." I take a step back and change my mind. I pop open another button on my shirt, reaching behind my head to pull it off in one lazy motion.

"On second thought, save a trip. This one's clean."

Her eyes flash down to my abs, then back up to my face. She blushes guiltily. I toss the shirt to her and she catches it reflexively, and holding it in front of her like a shield.

"The other cup really does have coffee in it," I tell her, and turn back to the stove. "Over easy, right?"

Silence.

"My back is chivalrously turned. You better change that shirt before the blood leaks through to your bra. Those brocade ones you like don't come cheap."

Her breath sucks in with outrage and she stomps to the bathroom down the hall.

"Since when do you drink your blood out of coffee cups? And yes, over-easy, but I've got to go soon. I am late to meet Ric but I'm starving." She doesn't raise her voice even though there is a wall between us. The girl really does hang out with vampires way too much. Normally I can get more of a rise out of her with a stunt like that shirt trick.

She comes back in, rolling up the sleeves to my shirt. I bite my tongue to keep from sucking in a telling breath. She does look absolutely edible in my dark button-down, even with those tight jeans and knee-high boots peeking out underneath instead of creamy legs and painted toenails.

"It seemed more appropriate for morning," I said, taking a sip to keep from looking too carefully at her. My jeans are already getting a little too snug for a friendly breakfast.

She is pulling a similar move with her coffee cup, though with less success. I've seen her eyes jerk away from my chest twice and her sleeves are rolled up unevenly.

"I'm going to love explaining to Ric why I'm coming home in your shirt and there's blood on mine," she grouses. "He'll be pawing at my neck and then texting you to see if you hid the bodies well enough."

"Oh, you love his little fatherly act."

She shrugs one shoulder and my shirt slips off of it, exposing a plum-colored bra strap with brocade filigree that only vampire eyesight could detect from across the room. Did I call it, or did I call it?

"It's good for him. Gives him a feeling of purpose."

She is watching me way too closely, and I love it. I turn away from her to hide exactly how much I love it, but I lean one hand against the counter while I flip the eggs with the other, letting muscles ripple just enough to give her a show without obviously flexing. I bite back a grin. Maybe I _should_ try my full seduction routine on Elena sometime. Just for kicks.

"Can I ask you something?" She sounds hesitant enough to make me nervous. This can't possibly be a 'let's talk about last night' kind of thing. I didn't even kiss her, for Christ's sake. My hard-on fades a little.

"Nothing heavy this early after Klaus-pocalypse, ok?" I smile tightly over my shoulder and transfer her eggs to a plate. I set it on the counter next to her and start the dishes. I prefer other people to do them, but barring that, I can't stand having them hanging around in the sink. I could guilt-trip Elena into doing them in like one second but then she'd have something to do with her hands, which would make it harder for me to make her uncomfortable. Though maybe it would distract her from whatever Dr. Phil nonsense she is surely about to drop on me.

"Nothing heavy. I'm just afraid it's, I don't know, rude or something?"

"Careful, Gilbert. Emily Post and I have very specific standards about these kinds of things," I say, the sarcasm so implied I don't even add it to my tone.

I can picture her rolling her eyes at that.

"It's just that when Stefan drinks bagged blood, his face does the vampire thing, and Caroline's does most of the time too. But you…look exactly the same. I can't even tell if you're drinking blood or bourbon if I can't see through the glass."

I dry my hands and prowl across the kitchen, stopping right in front of her again. Her breathing halts.

"Control," I say, my eyes on her collarbone. "There's no point in going all predatory on a highball."

My shirt has slipped far enough that the top edge of her bra is peeking out. "This is a little big for you," I tell her. I fasten another button, letting my knuckles brush her warm flesh.

She glances down and blushes when she realizes what has happened. "Oops. Sorry."

Her hands tremble when I graze her sternum and the coffee in her cup sloshes. She sets it quickly on the counter but I don't step back. I can hear her heartbeat accelerating. I slide my hands around her neck, watching gooseflesh appear in my wake, and lift her hair from where it had been trapped by the collar of the shirt. She licks her lips quickly. I don't think she's taken a breath since I crossed the room. My cock is so hard I'm afraid it's going to bend the teeth of my zipper.

"Want to see a trick?" I breathe into her ear.

Her hand jerks involuntarily in the direction of her neck.

"Please, Elena," I smirk. "I've already eaten."

I lean even closer.

"Look at me," I order needlessly. Her eyes are already fastened on my lips and she takes in a little huff of breath, which is enough to brush her breasts against my chest. Just enough that I now know her nipples are hard.

I part my lips and she puts her hands against my chest, harder than a caress but not hard enough to actually push me away. Like she was thinking about it, but the thought didn't get all the way through.

"Damon?" It's a breathy little pant of a word and it sounds like sex, like I just grazed her clit. It's the perfect trigger for my trick, actually.

My fangs sharpen and lengthen dangerously, but my lips don't curl back and no veins extend from my eyes. I know what I look like, because I practiced this for weeks in a mirror to get it right.

I look like me but with wicked, beautiful fangs and a light in my eyes that is all predatory focus.

That is what Stefan is missing. Without practice, there is no moderation. Abstinence is not control. Abstinence is just another form of cowardice, of being a slave to your own nature and refusing to fight it, to own it or to reach an accommodation with it.

Elena takes another involuntary breath, her nipples grazing my chest again. I can smell her fear, and her arousal, and I hold her gaze until the arousal drowns the fear and her eyelids flutter. I can sense her trying not to lean forward the bare inch it would take to make our lips meet. I don't give her the chance.

I gently tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear, my fingertips lingering on her neck, and with a much larger effort than it took to expose them, I retract my fangs and lick my lips.

I give her hair a light, brotherly tug and smile crookedly. "Cool, huh?"

I grab my mug of blood and stroll out of the room. She doesn't start breathing again until I'm halfway down the hall.

If I don't get away from the scent of her arousal, they are going to have to surgically remove the zipper teeth from my penis. It occurs to me that underwear does serve a purpose after all. If Elena and I are going to continue to be so chummy I'm going to have to start wearing some, or buy looser jeans. I try to sit down on the couch and have to stifle a yelp. _Much_ looser jeans.

"Your eggs are getting cold!" I call down the hall. She hasn't moved a muscle. I know, because I haven't even heard the slightest ruffle of fabric. Now, I hear her gulping big breaths, deliberately trying to slow them down. Then the sound of her guzzling her coffee. I smile with vast masculine smugness at the cold fireplace. Dry throat, huh? That's too bad.

"I'm um, not hungry after all," Elena calls back. "I'm so late!" She's so guilty right now she sounds like she's lying even when she's telling the truth.

She doesn't even come through the living room, she's in such a hurry to escape. "I'll catch you later!"

"Have a nice day at the office." I stretch my arms across the back of the sofa, lounging with perfect contentment. Today, I am going to have to come up with a plan of unsurpassed brilliance for murdering Klaus. Living really is too fun to give up on just yet.

I hear the door slam. I reach out, pluck Elena's car keys from the side table and hold them up, my elbow still resting casually on the couch. The door opens again and she snatches the keys out of my hand.

"Thanks, Damon."

"Anytime," I reply cheerily, and enjoy a sip of blood. The door slams again. "Anytime."

* * *

Next chapter…the kiss on the porch. After that, we can get to some serious steam.


	4. Carpe Diem

Author's note: This is probably the last scene that will mirror the show very closely. It keeps some canon occurrences, but the next chapter and all that follows are 100% original. This story is writing itself like I'm channeling it from the other side. Loving it!

Damon POV

* * *

I follow Elena down the stairs. It has been a hell of a long day, roughhousing with Stefan, checking out his collection of dead Originals, dumping another body into my personal graveyard, and getting Jeremy out of the picture. Hell, I even managed to successfully comfort Elena for once, which was a relief because that time I was desperate enough to consider speed-dialing Matt, Ric, hell, even Ripper Stefan for a clue about what to say to keep her from flying apart at the seams.

What finally calmed her down wasn't at all what I thought was best, but I think Stefan did have something right: you gotta give the girl her way once in a while, if only to give her some control over the drama-cyclone that is her life.

"I feel like a horrible person."

"You just saved his life, Elena. Take it from me. Estranged is bad, dead is worse."

I don't get why she's so worked up about Jeremy beheading that hybrid. She says he's too young but at his age I was fighting in the War Between the States. I think killing that hybrid is the first sign I've seen that he's becoming a man instead of just running around like an emo teenager crying about which of his (highly abnormal) ex-girlfriends he loves the most.

Maybe it has been a good influence having me around for a change instead of Stefan. He's getting shit done now instead of smoking pot and being pouty-faced. I really wished I could have snuck him a high-five before I had to wipe his memories clean, but even I am not stupid enough to try Elena's temper tonight. She slapped the crap out of her beloved Stefan earlier, and from the sound of it, all that weight lifting might actually be starting to make a difference.

"I just can't stop thinking about what happened the last time I asked you to compel him."

"He found out and he got over it. Again, not dead."

This is bullshit. Sending Jeremy away will make her feel better, but it isn't going to fool any of her enemies. He will make as good a hostage in Denver as he makes in Mystic Falls. It is just going to be a longer commute for me to save his ass in the future. I make a mental note to look into getting my pilot's license.

"He's so lucky to have you for a sister." Just look what I got stuck with for siblings. I feel a twinge of guilt.

_I did it to save you. _

Grrr.

"Thank you," she says.

"No problem." I smile quickly, wondering if it is too late to check back in with Bonnie to see if she's found a way to open that magic casket that is sure to be full of Original-killing toys.

"Not just for this, Damon. For everything. I don't know what I would do if you weren't here."

Oh shit, she's looking at me, _really _looking at me. That is my cue to back her up against her big front door and give her something to be really thankful about.

Except for my conscience, which is raising a smugly condescending eyebrow at me. Damon Salvatore does not need to play with a handicap. Not even if the handicap is only that my asshole brother is slightly less assholish than she currently thinks.

I turn away just a little, my eyes flaring. I've made literally hundreds of women fall in love with me. With Elena, it has to be totally real, totally fair or it won't mean any more than any of them did. And I need there to be _more_ if I'm going to bother to stick around for another hundred years or so.

"You should know this, Elena. Stefan didn't screw us over," I cock my head, rethinking that. "He screwed us over, but he had good reason."

"What?"

"He saved Klaus to save me. Then he stole the coffins to get even."

"Damon, if he stole the coffins to protect you…why would he do that? What does that even mean?"

She's connecting the dots, even faster than I did. Stefan is free of the compulsion, but even _before _he was free of the humanity-erasing compulsion, he saved my ass. Again. Which means that she knows now what I've always known. Stefan can play angel-team and devil-team with equal facility. At the same time.

It means a lot more things. That he maybe chose to drink her blood when he could have resisted. That maybe he loves me more than he loves her. Or maybe that he loves her enough to try to protect her from what he's become by pushing her away. I wonder if she's considered that he might have saved me for her. Not because he wanted a brother, but because he wanted a bodyguard for her.

"What does it _mean_? It means that I'm an idiot. Because I thought for one second that I wouldn't have to feel guilty."

God, I hate my brother. He makes it impossible, totally freaking impossible to live my life. The complication-free, angst-free life that I have down to a science. Even this new life I've started to build that includes having real friends and the growing realization that I might not indulge in everything I used to, but I don't really want to, either. He makes everything impossible, even when he's trying to make it easy.

"What are you talking about? Guilty for what?" She's still caught up in the complex possibilities of Stefan's current moral climate.

She knows. If I give her a second, she'll finish the equation but I'm so frustrated with how this game always ends that I'm staring at her perfect skin and troubled brown eyes and I forget myself.

"For wanting what I want," I tell her, my voice rough. I swallow without meaning to.

Her eyes widen and she stills as comprehension creeps in and she's not as soft and full of gratitude toward me as she was even two minutes ago. The news about Stefan is already between us again. She's got the classic 'oh, no don't complicate our friendship by falling in love with me' look. Except she's known for months how I felt about her. Except that you can't lie to vampire senses and her body is obviously not worried about complicating our friendship. And her eyes are saying no, but they are staring at my lips while they say it.

"Oh, no, I get it," I say bitterly.

_It was always Stefan. It's always going to be Stefan._

My mouth twists and I turn to leave. "Brother's girl and all."

I'm pissed, not only because she's choosing him again, but also because I'm no longer sure she _wants_ to be choosing him. When I went out the window the other night and she came back to find an empty bed, she didn't say his name in her lonely little voice. She said mine.

"No. No, you know what, if I'm going to feel guilty, I'm going to feel guilty about this." And goddamn it, she's going to feel guilty with me, because I _know_ she wants what I want, but if she ignores it she can go on feeling all good and pure and loyal and I have to feel like the dirty, backstabbing brother.

I mean to kiss her hard and deep, give her pure sex to make her admit who has been dampening her panties for the last few weeks. But when I touch her hair, it is soft, but not as soft as what I want and I slip my hand underneath to cup her delicate throat. And once I touch her she's so sweet that I can't bruise those full lips, can't be rough with her. I taste just the vulnerable line where her lips guard her mouth.

Her small hand comes up and covers mine and she's not pulling me away from her, she's just holding me. I kiss her with a tenderness that can't possibly be real, that makes something deep in my belly quake in an unfamiliar way.

I pull away just far enough to see her eyes and they are dazed and uncertain and whatever she's feeling it isn't anything she's felt before and just like that, I feel better. If I don't know what the hell that was, at least she doesn't either. I know every shade of lust and love and obsession and that kiss was something…different.

She's very still, a kind of still I'm very familiar with. The kind where you are fighting not to allow yourself to move.

I smile, not giving her a chance to figure out which part of her will win. "Good night," I whisper, and I step away.

Sauntering down her sidewalk, I manage not to whistle. My days are as messed up as ever, but more and more often, my nights are making up for it. Elena and I are not through with each other, not by a long shot.

I probably should look into that pilot's license. She's not going to be any fun if she's worrying about Jeremy all the time. I wonder if there's any way I can compel someone in Colorado to protect him. Maybe a Navy SEAL or something. It would be so much easier if I could do that compel-a-vampire trick the Originals love so much. Then Jeremy could have his own vampire Secret Service. Hell, I could make Elena one too so I could get out of town now and then when I want a snack that doesn't come vacuum-sealed.

No wonder Stefan tolerated my presence, even after he knew how I felt about his girl. He just wanted somebody to swap shifts on bodyguard duty. I grin ruefully into the darkness and break into a jog. About twice as fast as a human can sprint, it makes the trees zoom by at a satisfying rate. I do sort of miss having a day shift around since Stefan has been busy draining the sororities of the eastern seaboard. Too bad there isn't a third Salvatore brother to fall in love with her.

I stop, skidding and tearing up a big swathe of dirt out of the forest floor.

That's it. That's how we can finally kill Klaus.

* * *

Hold on, boys and girls. This is about to get a little craaazy… The next chapter is a killer. I kind of can't wait to post it.


	5. Achilles

_Author's Note: _

_So, to keep you posted between the last chapter and this one, the events that happened in episodes 3x11 Our Town and 3x12 The Ties that Bind have taken place, with one exception: Klaus did NOT get his coffins back. So to recap: Elena and Damon have another porch moment: (Elena- You can't kiss me again. Damon- I know. Elena- It's wrong. Damon- It's right. Just not right now). Stefan tries to drive Elena off Wickery Bridge and turn her into a vampire. Elena tells Stefan she kissed Damon and he goes all still and it is obvious that he still cares about her. He tells her "You're better than him. You're better than both of us." Stefan punches Damon in the face for kissing his girl. But, as I said, Klaus did not get his coffins back. The witches are still hiding them. _

_From here, it diverges sharply from canon, which is happy because we get a whole new version of Elena's struggle to choose between two brothers, and a whole new romantic conflict, as well as a cool new way to kill Klaus. It is only sad because in this world, that friggin' incredible kiss in Denver didn't happen. I think that was the best kiss I have ever seen on film, by the way. Great soundtrack choice, too._

_This starts the night after Elena and Bonnie went to see Bonnie's mom. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Vampire Diaries or any of its characters, dialogue or plot. Warnings for very explicit sexual content and adult language, for this chapter and the whole story to come._

* * *

**ELENA POV**

I flip over in bed, shoving angrily at my pillow. I feel like I've been tired my whole life, but still I can't sleep. Pieces of conversations and flashes of memory are jockeying for space in my brain and it is way too busy in there to close up shop. I see the look on Stefan's face as he threatens to kill Jamie. As I tell him I kissed Damon.

If that wasn't enough, when I got home, I had to tell Damon what happened. I texted him to come over and he showed up in minutes. I don't know how fast vampires can run, but he only seems to drive if he's going out of town. If I know Damon, he just enjoys the speed.

For as upset as I was about Stefan earlier, now it's the moment with Damon that keeps playing through my head.

* * *

Damon walks in the front door without knocking, moving with his trademark swagger.

"So you told Stefan about us?" He flares his eyes to emphasize the word 'us' but his voice is even more carefully casual than usual. Also, he starts rummaging in our pitiful liquor cabinet. Another give away that he is nervous.

"How did you know?"

"He already told me. With his fist." A smile comes and goes as he settles for bottom shelf Canadian whiskey. "He hits less like a girl now that he's drinking the good stuff."

Damon takes a drink straight from the bottle and makes a face. "I wonder if this swill would be better out of a glass." His eyes dart to me and away again. "You okay?"

I cross my arms. "I'm fine."

"What did he say to you?" His eyes flick over me more carefully this time, lingering at my neck. "No bruises and no punctures, so you didn't get the same message I did. That's a good sign."

"He said you weren't good enough for me."

Damon shrugs, unaffected. "And he is? Tell that to the mass grave behind our house."

I flinch and his lips press together as if he's considering apologizing for stepping over that line. He cocks his head to the side and back again and says nothing. He's right. There's no point dancing around the truth.

"What did you say?" Damon asks carefully. I can tell it's an effort for him to actually address an issue. It's not something he has much practice with.

"I told him I didn't feel guilty for kissing you, that I just felt he deserved to know."

Damon's blue eyes stop bouncing around the room and lock onto my face. A ripple of sensation goes through my body as if it were his hands touching me instead of his eyes. I can't remember what I meant to tell him, what I brought him here to talk about. I want to touch him. I always want to touch him. I'm just afraid that if I jump off that cliff, I won't survive the fall.

I look away.

"He didn't take it well." I bite my lip to keep it from trembling. "We won. We made him feel again, Damon. I don't know if he's back, but the door is open now. He can come back in if he chooses to. Even still drinking human blood, he cares."

He is still as a human could never be still. I wonder if he will dare to ask me what this all means. I can feel his lips on mine, on the porch a few short nights ago. I can hear the huskiness of his voice on the same porch. "It's right. Just not right now."

I know he thought it was only a matter of time before I fell into his arms, and I'm not sure I could have really argued with that conclusion. It's a hopeless battle, resisting him. But today changes everything.

It makes me a terrible person, but I almost wish Stefan would have just stayed the Ripper. It would have made everything easier. It would have made nothing easier.

Damon's eyes are shuttered, but they are so blank that the vulnerability he is hiding is not hidden at all. The bottle is forgotten in his hand.

I can't move. If I move, I'll go to him, try to comfort this look out of his eyes and I don't know if that would be giving him false hope or not. I am as frozen as he is, but where he is motionless, I tremble like a leaf in the wind.

He gives me a surprisingly convincing smirk, turning back on as suddenly as if someone has hit the 'play' button.

"Well, if St. Stefan is back, I'd better go warn the poor creatures of the forest that they're in for Holocaust, round deux. Catch you later."

He swaggers out, but I recognize the walk from the many times I've seen him after a beating, or torture, or any number of mortal injuries. It's all bravado and pain, and I'm left thinking how like his brother he is, how they both froze and said nothing. How their nothing said everything.

* * *

Unable to forget either of their faces, their pain or my own, I shove off the covers and resign myself to going to the bathroom to get a sleeping pill. I deserve at least a few hours a day when I don't have to think. It's probably a good thing I've been too afraid to take sleeping pills for most of this year. Afraid someone would steal me in the night and I wouldn't be able to wake up to scream.

Now, I didn't care. Let them have me. Besides, something told me that my house had a guard tonight. With Klaus and his hybrids on the rampage I doubted Damon had gone far.

The half-moon had been bright earlier, but it must have gone behind a cloud because my room was darker than it should have been. I take a step away from my bed, hands outstretched in the darkness to avoid bumping into anything. I need a nightlight.

Maybe it is just the darkness, but something in the room feels different. The hair on the back of my neck rises and I freeze in mid-step and listen. I don't hear breathing, but the nothing that I hear is almost worse. It is like the silence is listening back. A jolt of adrenaline shoots through me and I marvel that I have any left in my system. Won't I ever just run out of fear?

"Damon?" I whisper, my voice embarrassingly quivery.

The silence waits.

I turn in a slow circle, my arms outstretched, my heart in my throat. I am sure any second someone is going to grab my hand in a cold, vampire-hard grip, and I doubt I would be so lucky as to have it be just Damon, messing with me.

My eyes strain in the darkness, and then the cloud over the moon must have shifted because a beam of weak, silvery light makes its way through the open window.

Open? Did I leave it open?

The light stretches across the floor. The cloud must be moving quickly. The beam settles at the foot of my chair, illuminating a boot.

I suck in my breath to scream for Ric.

A black motorcycle boot with silver rings on the sides.

The air falls out of my mouth, heavy with relief. I fumble behind me for the bed and sink down on it, waiting for the adrenaline to clear out.

"Damon, you scared the life out of me! Can you _not_ pull this crap in the middle of the night, please? The daytime is bad enough."

He doesn't answer, but the moonlight is strong enough now that I can see his face clearly and it is definitely Damon.

He's sprawled sideways in my big chair, one boot up carelessly on the cushion, the other planted on the floor. He has my teddy bear and is playing idly with it. That teddy bear was on the bed next to me when I lay down for the night. Goosebumps rake my arms.

That man is so smoothly silent when he wants to be. I wonder if he's ever been here without me knowing. Probably. Maybe that's how he knows what kind of bras I like. He must have gone through my clothes, because God knows he shouldn't have any acquaintance with my underwear.

I frown. He should have said something irritating and smug by now. Or at least something inappropriately sexual. He's not playing mockingly with my bear, either. He's just sort of hopping it absently across his leg.

"Damon? Is everything okay?"

He makes the bear turn to look at me, and then Damon turns to look at me. He is not smiling. In the low light, his eyes are the burning silver of stars. My heart, which has started to slow down, kicks back up again.

He drops the bear and rises with the sinuous grace that means he is not even pretending to be human.

"Damon, have you been compelled? What's going on?"

He approaches me with the unhurried assurance of a predator who knows his prey is caught. Upon reaching me, he doesn't slow, just keeps coming until I have to tumble over backwards onto the bed or risk colliding (kissing?).

Damon plants a hand on either side of my head and holds me still with just his eyes. They don't have the disassociated certainty of the compelled. They are intense as usual but instead of being detached or amused they are chaotic, conflicted and full of need.

"Are you afraid?" he asks, his voice velvet and predatory. His silent, unworldly fast body is built to kill and it is poised over mine without any pretense of vulnerability. He is still but his eyes churn with things he'll never tell me, that I doubt I even begin to understand.

My heart melts for him and heat pools between my legs. Something is obviously bothering him, but I think he came here to kiss me again. Do I want this? I want him to touch me, more than I want my next breath, but do I want every crazy thing that will mean? Should I be making this decision now?

I shake my head in answer to his question, and so he knows I mean it, I touch his cheek softly. "I trust you," I remind him, because I begin to recognize the look in his eye.

In some ways, Damon is just like his brother, and when he feels too much of anything, he gets unpredictable. And very dangerous.

He bends his head toward my ear. His breath caresses my skin and I want to writhe at the sensation. A single, killing-sharp fang traces the shell of my ear.

I hold very still. His teeth nip a warning at my earlobe and then touch my neck. Now I am a liar. Now I am afraid.

Damon killed my brother in this mood. Opened a tomb full of crazy vampires in this mood. I remember, as I do so rarely, that he is capable of almost anything.

His fangs trace the exact line of my throbbing jugular vein and when it disappears deeper into my chest, headed for my heart, his lips touch my skin in the barest of farewell salutes. My head is light from lack of oxygen.

He lifts his head and I can see his eyes are clear of blood. He's in perfect control. "Breathe, Elena."

He makes a move I don't follow and we are both fully on the bed and he is crouched over me. I have forgotten to obey. He captures my wrists, drawing them over my head and holding them securely. "You trust me, remember?" His voice is mocking, challenging. His thumbs smooth over the pulse in each of my wrists.

I can feel the same pulse echoed between my legs. I have never been this turned on in my life. I'm not sure I've been this turned on in the midst of an orgasm. He has barely even touched me, but his body is so close and he's not allowing me to push him away.

I meet his eyes because I want him to feel my confidence in him. "I remember." I tilt my chin up just enough to bare my throat. It is an act of faith. It might be an invitation. His glacier-blue eyes flare with heat and veins threaten around his eyes. I see his canine teeth sharpen and blunt at least twice. I don't flinch and I don't look away. I have no idea what I'm doing, and my head tells me it is wrong, bad, sin but some deeper part of me (my soul, my conscience, my bones?) knows right. Knows him. Wants him. I'm not sure this is just desire. I don't know what this is.

He lowers his head, holding my eyes until the last possible moment, and what touches my throat is only smooth, firm lips and his knowing tongue, teasing me. They trace my collarbone, my breath coming faster and harder and he nibbles the angle where my shoulder meets my neck with blunted, human teeth. I make a sound between a whimper and a squeak and his hips twitch in response, though he does not touch me, doesn't let me feel that part of him.

He comes back up, watching me like he sees everything. His mouth is close, perilously close to me. This is my last chance to pretend this was his idea and not mine. My last chance to choose differently, to deny that there is anything between us. Just the tip of his tongue touches my lips, tracing the crease between them and I will never last the night with torture like this.

"Damon." I breathe his name against his lips and he pulls back enough to scorch me with the heat in his eyes. He doesn't look safe, doesn't look trustworthy. He looks like screaming, dirty, kinky sex.

"Do you trust me?" I ask him.

His eyes flare and I'm not entirely sure his answer is yes.

"Let me go," I whisper. His eyes shutter defensively, but he releases my wrists.

I use a martial arts throw Ric taught me to roll Damon off of me. It's unnecessarily rough, but I'm feeling a little wild, a little out of my mind. When I'm straddling him, I place a hand on either side of his neck with excruciating gentleness. I brush my thumbs against his flawless jawline and I let my hair fall all around us as I bend and kiss him with all the tenderness, all the caring and wonder and protectiveness that he _makes_ me feel, that I don't want to feel. Stefan wasn't safe to love. Damon would be cataclysmic.

But if he wants to throw it all to the wind tonight, I feel irrational enough, reckless enough to remember that terrible, _terrible_ things have happened to me. If this ends badly, nothing about that would be new. I part my lips and his tongue sweeps hungrily inside and I think it will be worth it. If there is to be pain at least this time it will be prefaced with pleasure.

I roll us again because I want to feel him overwhelm me. I want to feel all that strength and speed and sex that _is _Damon. I grab his ass with one hand and the back of his neck with the other and I use my fingernails to pull him tightly against me. A groan rips free of his throat as I get to feel exactly how much he wants me.

I arch against him, whimpering again and bite his shoulder. I pull at his shirt and he makes it disappear for me. I've wanted to touch the smooth muscles of his chest so many times. I remember him walking into the living room, half-drunk and wearing nothing but bubble bath. I remember covering my eyes because I couldn't, shouldn't look at him.

I arch my back again because my nipples ache and I want to rub them against his chest. He slides his fingers under the tank top I sleep in and I bury my head in his neck and tremble as he teases the edges of my breasts, tracing their curves and making my skin prickle and want.

He takes hold of the bottom edge of the tank top and raises it, inch by inch, torturing me or giving me the chance to stop him, I'm not sure which. I squirm because I want more and press myself wantonly against his erection, hoping for relief. In pulling off my shirt, he rubs his palms briefly over my nipples and I swallow a moan.

He rolls off me and props his head on one elbow, using his free hand to brush strands of my hair away from my breasts, allowing nothing to shield me from those eyes.

I'm embarrassed to look at him, but I can't look away from the heat in his gaze. It makes what he's doing to me so much more intimate. More intimate than I should be with him, with anyone. He touches my right nipple with a fingertip and then pinches it with calculated brutality. My eyes roll back in my head and I writhe involuntarily. He leans forward and traces the edge of my areole with his tongue, then rolls my nipple fully into his mouth, devouring me. His hand slowly traces a line down to my sleeping shorts. He flattens his hand on my belly, and it is so big that his fingers span the whole distance between my hips. He presses down, holding me into the mattress while he torments first one nipple, then the other, his left hand tangled in my hair.

My hips are rolling shamelessly, thoughtlessly. I want. That's all I know. I _want. _

He bites the underside of my breast just as his right hand slips under my waistband. His left hand moves with vampire speed to muffle my scream. I rub my breasts into his face, wanting him to bite me again. He obliges and I swear I can feel him smile.

Damon is very careful with his right hand, letting just the tip of one finger pet the soaked slit between my legs. He doesn't pull the hood back from my clit, but even that is too much stimulation and I buck and moan against his hand.

He replaces his left hand with his mouth and we are devouring each other with a year's worth of sexual frustration urging us on. We get rough, biting at each other's lips. My fingers are wound through his hair, trying to get him closer. His right hand is still careful with me, parting the layers of my sex and teasing each one with the lightest touches, using my arousal to lubricate his fingers. He teases just the outer edges of my aching opening and no matter how I twist and thrust, he won't give me more, won't rush. I take it out on his mouth, kissing him more and more fiercely, pulling his hair. He matches my ferocity and no matter how harsh, how demanding I become, he gives me back more.

He opens my labia, exposing my swollen clit to the air, leaving me totally vulnerable but untouched. I can't force him into further contact and one of my fists pounds heedlessly against his shoulder. Just when I think I will actually die of frustration, he gives me one touch. My clit is so sensitive I can feel the ridges of his fingerprints raking across me. I am strangling, tension wrapping every cell of my body. I am tight, tight, pushing, wanting, demanding.

"Damon, I can't- I _can't. _Stop. Don't." I'm begging him and I don't have any idea what for.

"You can," he promises. Infinitely tender kisses caress my eyelids, adorn my forehead. "You can." He makes one slow circle of my clit and I go to pieces, shaking and losing control of everything of everyone of my world of me.

Even then, Damon is not finished with me. He withdraws his fingertip as I convulse and then replaces it when the shudders begin to subside. I clench and he drinks my scream into his hungry mouth. He presses my clit so carefully, so rhythmically that he exactly matches the waves of my orgasm and they just keep going, going, going, unable to wane.

The sound coming out of my throat abruptly cuts off and I exist in the space between moments. I don't exist at all.

I have no memory of the orgasm slowing or stopping. There is blankness in my mind and then, later, I know that I'm still and silent, curled into a ball with Damon's body curved protectively around mine. My muscles jerk with a random, leftover spasms and my tongue is dry. I am unable to move.

He kisses the back of my neck, smoothing his hand over my rumpled hair, and disappears.

I open my eyes and he is really gone. Out the window or something. It takes my brain long moments to form a thought and it is this:

No. Fucking. Way.


	6. Achilles Part II

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Vampire Diaries or any of its characters, dialogue or plot. Warnings for explicit sex__, __and adult language, for this chapter and the whole story to come._

* * *

**ELENA POV**

No fucking way did Damon Salvatore just sneak into my room, give me an apocalypse of an orgasm and _just leave. _No. I won't even consider it, only partially because my brain blew all of its fuses and would currently be intellectually challenged by reading _See Spot Run_.

I close my eyes again and my body buzzes happily, unaware that my mind is attempting to work up the energy to be furious.

I flinch when a hand slides up over my hip and rolls me onto my back. I open my eyes. "Where-?"

Damon smiles. "A little makeshift soundproofing. Your family relies way too much on vervain jewelry." His voice drops a register and his eyes flare dangerously. "Scream all you want, now."

He strokes the hair out of my dazed eyes and kisses me softly. I feel a wet clench and release between my legs in response and realize that even after all that, I still want more.

"What did you _do_ to me?" I demand.

His smile is sharp and he kisses me with fangs. I love it.

"Nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you."

Damon stands up and pins me with eyes that look like liquid moonlight. For a second I think he is compelling me, but I don't feel the telltale mental fist gripping my brain.

"Strip." His voice is the same as when he compels someone, though. The force of will that tells you he doesn't have a shred of doubt that he'll be resisted.

I smile back in a way that feels ancient, sensual, coy. Powerful. I can't believe I have the guts to say this, but I do. "You first."

Veins pulse and disappear around his eyes and it occurs to me that this vampire thing is far more tied to sexual attraction than I'd realized. Something I might be interested in exploring later.

His abs ripple appealingly and he unbuttons his jeans. The zipper rips open of its own accord, revealing tight black boxer briefs that don't stand a chance at concealing his raging hard-on. I don't know if transitioning makes it bigger, but my experience with vampires is making me think there might be a size correlation involved. He manages to get rid of his jeans and boots without fumbling even a little bit.

"I would have figured you for a commando kind of guy," I say, leaning back on my elbows and enjoying the view.

He chuckles, low and rumbly, and I realize that Damon almost never laughs. He smirks and looks amused a lot, but actually laughs? Not much.

"Recent change," he says. "Your turn."

Instead I get out of bed and hook my fingers into his boxer briefs, pulling them down as I kneel down with them, letting my hair drag across his thrusting penis on my way by. He catches his breath. I pull the briefs off one foot, then the other. I toss my hair back and hold his gaze as I rise, running my tongue along the whole length of his cock while he watches, then circling the swollen head with my tongue before standing up.

I lean forward, pressing my breasts against his chest and nip peckishly at his full lower lip, then turn and walk back toward the bed. It's Katherine's walk, leading with the hips, letting the curve travel all the way up my spine as I prowl away. When I get to the bed, I put my thumbs into my waistband and take off my shorts an inch at a time, bending brazenly at the waist to get them all the way to my ankles.

Damon steps in behind me, standing close and motionless, letting our naked bodies just barely graze each other with each breath. His penis strains against my lower back, a drop of pre-cum touching my spine.

He takes me by the waist and lifts me easily into the center of the bed, laying me on my stomach. His hands smooth up the curve of my hips and waist and skim the edges of my breasts. He raises my arms over my head again, shackling my wrists and lowering his weight onto me.

He uses his knee to tease along my inner thighs, pushing my legs further and further apart, then thrusting his cock against my bottom.

The bed is sweet friction against my distended clit and sensitive nipples and he strokes my back with his whole body, kissing and biting the nape of my neck. I wonder if he is going to want to feed. Damon probably usually does, during sex. It wasn't something that ever came up between Stefan and me, for obvious reasons. I consider if I would like it, with Damon.

He works a hand beneath me and cups my sex, giving me just a little friction but not enough, controlling how much I can have.

I turn my head and kiss him while he toys with me. He shifts and the head of his cock is teasing my entrance, sliding freely around.

"Please," I gasp.

I can't wait. Now that he's so close I can't endure not having as much of him as he will give to me. Damon rubs himself further up against my clit and I feel my orgasm start. He backs off, cupping me with his hand so nothing can touch me and give me that last little bit I need to go over the edge.

"Damon…" his name is a moan, a prayer.

He bites my earlobe and puts just the head of his penis inside of me. It is so swollen that I can clearly feel the line between it and the rest of his shaft. I clench around him, wanting more, half out of my mind with the need to orgasm.

"What's the magic word?" He kisses me, my lips puffy and slick from his tongue. Drops of blood flash into his eyes and away again. He rubs his cheek against mine in a way that feels affectionate and pleased. I smile despite the agony I'm in. I have no idea what his magic word is.

"Please, Damon. I want you. I want _you,_" I beg, thinking that this has to be it, has to be what he wants to hear from me. I am rewarded with another inch of cock. I surge back toward him but he won't allow it.

"I want to know something."

I consider killing him.

"Anything," I gasp.

He flicks a finger, vampire-fast over my clit. I get one wave of orgasm and then it just magically pauses. Does he freaking control orgasms with his _mind?_ How is he doing this to me?

I will tell him anything. Where the moonstone is, how to break the curse, what color underwear Stefan wears, where I hide my diary, anything. It occurs to me that I am not a good candidate for holding out against torture.

He pulls out completely and I bite the mattress with frustration but then he gives me that huge head and one bare inch of his cock again.

"Did you ever touch yourself and think of me?"

_That's_ all he wants to know?

"Yes," I gasp. "God, yes." It's true, but I would say it even if it wasn't because I want him so badly that the truth seems like an infinitely malleable thing in pursuit of getting him.

He slams all the way into me, magically finding my G-spot on the first try and I'm screaming and clutching at him as he fucks me in flawless harmonic rhythm to the clenching of my pussy. When the contractions slow, so does he.

Damon pushes himself to the hilt inside of me and waits until I calm. Then he takes one of my legs and helps me through an impossibly gymnastic maneuver that ends with us face to face. He reaches between us and opens my sex so that his pubic bone can find my clit, and he starts pushing into me, patiently, smoothly, playing with my nipples and my hair, kissing my neck, enjoying me. I feel beautiful everywhere he touches me.

I start meeting his thrusts, straining toward him. Instead of giving me more, he pulls out and flips me. He's on his back and I'm facing the ceiling on top of him. He hooks his feet around mine, pulls my legs wide open and spears into me, hard. I feel really exposed in this position and I reach for him for reassurance, but his hands are busy with my breasts and it is all sex, all raw as he handles me and fucks me, changing angles two or three times until I'm convinced that I must have multiple G-spots. I make a blurry mental note to consult Cosmo and then he changes position again. My hands are against the headboard and he's kneeling behind me, still pushing my knees wide apart so I can't guard myself or pull away from the unbearable swirl of sensation.

I can hear myself gasping, sobbing, saying his name. It's too much. Too much to feel, to hold inside my fragile human mind, but Damon is merciless and kind all at once. He whispers soothing words in my ear that I can't process, but I love the gravel of his low voice, love how the different parts of him take turns being gentle and rough with me.

He wraps an arm around me and sets his teeth in my shoulder. His thrusts have been almost scientifically calibrated for my response up until this moment. Now they become heavier, more dominant. I can feel the masculine claiming of his movements as he demands everything from me. I don't want to deny him. I can't. This orgasm starts between my legs, squeezing his cock in waves so I can feel him with such amazing intensity. The sensations race up my whole body and blow out the top of my head. I fall, and I think he catches me.

I hear his atavistic, almost painful groan and then he shouts and thrusts so hard that I'm momentarily frightened and I call out for him, afraid he'll forget that I'm human and breakable.

Damon's arms wrap around me in response and I think he tries to say something but it doesn't come out as words. His hips buck hard enough to lift me clear off the bed but he doesn't hurt me and then he's exploding inside of me.

I'm so thankful that I don't have to use a condom with him because I love the feeling of skin against skin. I love that he's leaving something of himself behind and I feel marked, filled with his scent.

He brings us safely down onto the bed and I lie very still because all my nerve endings are shooting fireworks and shouting and I just lie back and let it all wash over me and through me, my brain purring happily and wordlessly.

Damon pulls out but other than that doesn't budge. His arms are still locked around me and he soothes kisses onto the spot where he bit me. It feels a little raw, with pinpricks where his fangs slid out for just a second. He didn't _really _bite me, though. Not that way. I wonder if he wanted to. I roll my eyes. Of course he wanted to, but I suppose not necessarily in sexy way. I kind of want to ask him about that, about feeding and sex and if they go together and how but it can wait.

His head is tucked into the crook of my neck. I wonder how I'm going to tell Stefan we're not getting back together. I decide I don't care. I don't want to think about him right now. I want to let my body soak in these hormones and in Damon's scent and I never want to move or do anything else, ever again.

I close my eyes, content.

When I wake my room is full of warm, golden sunlight and Damon is gone.

* * *

_Author's Note: Reviews/Comment? Thoughts? That was a whole lot of sex scene, I know, but I don't think Damon would do anything halfway, no pun intended. _

_*The "commando" comment was a reference to Chapter 3, Dawn of a New Day, when Damon thinks he will have to start wearing underwear because Elena getting him hard all the time is putting him in danger from his zipper. _


	7. Girl Talk

ELENA POV

I knock on Bonnie's door two days later, feeling unaccountably nervous. "Hey," is all I manage when she opens the door.

Bonnie smiles at me and steps back so I can come inside, but there's a tiny line between her eyebrows because I always text before I come over. I don't stall, because if I start to make small talk I will chicken out and avoid the whole issue. Again.

"Look, I need your help."

She frowns. "Is it another spell? Is there something new going on?"

"No, nothing like that." I smile at her. "Just need your best friend powers this time, not your supernatural ones."

She smiles back sympathetically. "Let me get us some iced tea. We can sit on the porch like old ladies and have some girl talk, ok?" She starts down the hall and then turns back. "Or is this more like a wine kind of talk?"

I puff out my cheeks and blow out the air slowly. "This is the kind of talk that they don't make liquor strong enough for. So tea is fine."

She arches an eyebrow, but Bonnie is patient. I let myself back out the front door and sink into one of her cozy chairs. When I hear her open the door, I don't turn to look at her.

"You know, I don't know what all happened when you found out you were a witch, but it sure made you grow up fast. I've been meaning to say that for a while, but we always seem to be working on something so urgent that I never get the chance.

She smiles softly, with all that _knowledge_ behind her face that she never used to have.

"It's a lot of responsibility. And-," she sits down, putting the two sweating glasses of tea between us. "There's a kind of a feeling to it, too. Like I know what I am supposed to do. Sometimes I don't like it, lots of times I don't get why, but I always know what should be done."

She rubs her hands over the thighs of her jeans thoughtfully. "The few times I've tried to fight it, it hasn't ended well."

"Bonnie, I'm sorry about Jeremy. I know you don't agree with me, and to be honest, I don't agree with me either." I lean forward, looking her in the eye because it is important that she believe me. "But I can't lose him, Bonnie. Damon was right. Estranged is bad, but dead is worse. I can't take dead. Everything else I will deal with. I hate that my choice affected you and maybe you and him, um, together, but I had to protect my brother. I'm all he's got."

Bonnie was shaking her head, reaching out to grab my hand. "No, I get it, Elena. I do." She smiles self-consciously and blinks back the sudden moisture in her eyes.

"Come on. I went against the dead witches to save his life. I can't fault you for doing everything you can to keep him safe, and damn the consequences." One tear slips loose. "The only reason there isn't an 'us' with me and Jeremy anymore is because of those consequences."

I get up and embrace her fiercely. "Bonnie, I'm so sorry. I get it. I really, really get it, and I respect the heck out of you for…just for being who you are, that's all."

I sit back down and let her wipe her eyes. "I don't know why, but vampires seem to equal sacrifice. In a hundred different ways, we've all given things up since they came to town."

"And gained things," she reminded me, cleaning off a bit of her smeared mascara.

I give another explosive sigh. "Yes."

I can't deny that, wouldn't deny that.

"So what's up? You didn't come over here to apologize about Jeremy again."

I look at my hands and I don't want to start, so I just babble in hopes that speed will keep me from avoiding all the things I need to talk about but don't want to face.

"Look, Bonnie, I came here because you are the most mature person I know. I really need someone to talk to, and I respect that you are your own person with your own opinions. I respect those opinions, even if I don't agree with them. But I want to ask you, if you possibly can, to please just set those aside for now and listen to me."

I grip her hand across the little table. "I don't need advice. I don't think there _is _advice for this, but I feel like my head will explode if I don't try to sort through some of this."

"Damon, then."

I look at her.

She purses her lips for a long moment and then relents, with the grace she didn't have a year ago. This is why I came to her. Not that there was a runner-up, really.

"Yes, I can do that, Elena. I'm your best friend. I will always be there for you, even if I'm mad, even if I think you're crazy, even if you think I'm crazy. So spill it." She leans forward. "He kissed you, didn't he?"

"Yes. After he compelled Jeremy to go to Denver." I take a sip of tea and roll my eyes. "He thinks it is dumb, me being upset about Jeremy killing that hybrid, but he didn't even say that. Not once. Damon's so different since Stefan went off the reservation. Not that Damon was easy, simple, before. And Stefan…I told you about the talk we had, at your mom's house."

"He said you were better than both of them," Bonnie supplies.

I twist my fingers together, my insides roiling in the internal storm that never seems to ebb lately. "It's funny. Lexie said it wouldn't be pretty. I said it was ok, but it wasn't."

Bonnie rolls her eyes. "The witches said there would be _consequences_ too. Screw all of them. There are some things you can't prepare for."

I laugh despite myself. "Tell me about it. It's funny because I did it. I made Stefan feel again.

"Obviously, he was still in there. He saved Damon. He could have killed or turned me on Wickery Bridge and he tore my heart apart to make a point to Klaus, but he didn't go through with it. He could have. But it was really when I told him that I kissed Damon that he really stopped and I could _see _that he wasn't the Ripper anymore." Tears well in my eyes.

"I thought that making him find his humanity would make me feel better, but it makes me feel worse. Everything makes me feel worse. I told Stefan that emotions are what make us human, what give us meaning, give us the humanity to do the right thing, but I'm not so sure that is the point anymore."

"In the last year, I feel like I've learned new depths of pain almost every day. I just feel more and more and more until I feel like my body will just fly apart from the strength of it all!" I pin her with my eyes, willing her to understand.

"And then the next day, there's _more!_ I can't take it, Bonnie. I really can't. I'm just making it by the second right now and not in a good way. Just in a I'm-breathing-and-that's-what-I-can-manage-kind-of-way. I don't have words for half the stuff I feel. Love, pain, lust, they are all so inadequate."

"Vampires are supposed to feel everything more intensely, right?" Bonnie asks. "Maybe you've been hanging out with vampires so much that it's rubbing off on you."

"There should be a whole other vampire vocabulary for that," I tell her. "Human words, human emotions are just not enough. Please believe me, Bonnie. I'm not being dramatic. I need somebody to really get the fact that this is _more_ than people are supposed to feel. About anything."

"What do you mean?" she asked. "Just like, amped up, like when you get drunk and suddenly things are funnier or sadder than they were?"

"Sort of. I don't know. Seeing my parents in their coffins. Watching Jenna die because of me, knowing John gave up everything to save me, even though I hated him and I was a jerk to him as often as possible. Jeremy, when Damon broke his neck," I gesture with one hand.

Words aren't enough. They never are.

"The pain doesn't seem to have a limit or an end but there are so many kinds of it. When Stefan tried to kill me on that bridge. The bridge where my parents died," my voice broke.

"When he looked me in the eye and told me that he didn't care if Jeremy died, if Jamie was compelled to kill himself. He looked at me with the face of the man I loved and told me _honestly _that he didn't care. Which is so messed up because I knew he cared about some things. He saved Damon, even at his worst. A few times. He fed off me. He tried to stop, but he _didn't_ stop, Bonnie. He fed off of me when he thought he wouldn't be able to stop, that he'd kill me. He did it."

I look at her with anguished eyes. "Can you imagine?"

"This stuff with Stefan has been hell, Elena. Everyone feels for you. It would be one thing if he were just himself, or just not himself, but this constantly changing mess of him being a serial killer and a psycho, but then not a psycho…" she shakes her head. "Totally. It is totally messed up. Where are you at with all that? I know you still care about him."

"It's not a choice!" I nearly shout.

"I can't stop. I tried, after he told me he didn't care if Jeremy died. Before that, I was trying to forgive him, trying to believe that if he could change back then it could still be ok. Afterwards, I didn't want him to exist. I didn't want him in my mind, in my memory, in my life, but I couldn't erase him. And because he'd once been so good, I couldn't forget him."

I run my hands over my head and pull at my hair. "He really is good, Bonnie. He tries harder than anyone I've ever met. Well, except maybe you. He cares about being a good person and it is a cruel joke that he has the compulsion or addiction or disease or whatever it is that makes him want to kill."

I pause and shake my tea, listening to the ice cubes clink.

"I can't stop feeling what I feel for him, even though it-," I wave my arm in frustration, "spans all categories. Love, hate, confusion, disgust, guilt, hope. I don't have the _time_ to feel everything he makes me feel."

Bonnie tilts her head, and looks knowingly but kindly at me. "What about Damon?"

I drop my head into my hands and actually growl. "Damon. Damon is even worse."

"Worse in what way?" Bonnie asks and I can hear her trying to be non-judgmental.

I wonder if she's been watching TV therapy shows. Maybe that's where she gets her composure. Maybe I should watch some of those shows.

"Worse in that Damon makes me feel things I didn't even know existed. I know he's totally unpredictable, and that he's capable of cruelty. Somehow that makes his kindness to me that much more poignant. I should hate him for his past, or at least blame him for it because I know he doesn't care about all the bad things he's done." I stare out at the street for a minute and then shrug helplessly.

"But I don't. I…like who he is. I shouldn't. I shouldn't like that it gives him depth, contrast. I don't want him to have killed people, but he has, and I can't seem to hate him for it. I am so intrigued by how he keeps changing. I want to see what he's going to be." I look at Bonnie, feeling old and kind of sinful, which is an odd combination.

"I know he's not going to just be a good boy. Probably ever. But somehow I feel like he's capable of greater good even than Stefan, sometimes. Because when he decides to do things, it is so pure, so totally unswerving no matter what anybody thinks…I'm rambling. Jeez. He's just ridiculously_ hot_."

Bonnie cracks up laughing and I do too, after a minute.

"Those eyes," she finally says.

"I know! Every _single_ time he looks at me, I get wet!" I confess, laughing.

"It's absurd! How can anybody live like that? He's always crowding me and I feel like, God, I feel like if I don't touch him, I will just strangle for wanting it. Like the air thickens around my throat and crowds in and I can't even breathe or think for wanting to touch him." I drop my head into my hands, embarrassed, relieved.

"Bonnie, I've been horny before, but this is unreasonable. His voice gets all husky and I want him to stay all day and all night to whisper to me, touch me, surround me. I think one of these days I am going to snap and just _fuck _him until I die of the pleasure of it and leave all this bullshit behind. It'll be like the best suicide ever."

Bonnie is almost blue she is laughing so hard. I can't help but grin along with her, feeling better after my rant.

She chokes a little and finally says, "Jeez, Elena, I had no idea you thought like that! You're always so blasé, matter of fact, around him. And kind of straight laced in general, no offense. For the longest time I wasn't sure if you and Stefan even _had _sex. You went from giggly infatuation to old married couple in like a week."

"Yeah. Stefan was good in bed, Bonnie," I tell her, feeling like I have to stick up for him.

"The best I'd had at that point, in bed, at kissing, you know. But-," I rub my eyes, wondering if I want to tell her more.

"Even standing next to Damon is hotter than kissing Stefan. And once he _looks_ at me, it's more powerful than any orgasm Stefan ever gave me." I feel like an ass for admitting this, but it's like a weight off my chest at the same time. As scary as it is, it is true.

I don't know if I want to tell her about Damon and me. I want to keep it hidden and safe, a sexy little secret like a stolen pair of his underwear or something. At the same time, I a little bit want to brag, because oh my God…

I press my lips together and look at her and she knows immediately.

Bonnie gasps. "Elena, no way! You did not!"

I nod, letting a smile spread across my face and feeling for a moment a flash of pride. "I sort of did. He just appeared in my room, didn't say anything. He…" The details are so intimate, but so important.

"He gave me a choice, and I made it. At least for right then. I kissed him and…" I shake my head, at a loss.

"He made me…just…Let's just say if it were possible to actually lose your mind from pleasure, I did. Several times. It actually felt like I overloaded the electrical circuits in my brain and they blew out."

I slouch back in the chair. "Maybe I do need some wine."

Bonnie is kind of gaping. "You go, girl. I don't want to say this, but you deserve some happiness in all this. Not that I approve. Not that I'm judging," she adds hastily.

"That's just the thing, Bonnie." I grin, and then it fades.

"It was fun. Really fun and more than fun and crazy and I have no idea what it means. It changes things, but it doesn't change everything, you know. It doesn't mean we could actually _be _together. Not to mention he hasn't really spoken to me since we slept together."

I drink some tea and think back over the year. Bonnie lets me take my time. There's a bird singing in the tree out front and for a second, we are like old ladies, confidants sharing a sunny afternoon. I wonder if we will get to be old together. I hope so.

"Once I would have said that Stefan was the safe choice. He felt like home to me, when we first met. Comforting and right, and it was easy for me to respect who he was. He respected me and my decisions. He treated me well. But now, even if he gets off the human blood, I know I can't ever fully trust him. He could go off the deep end and kill everyone I know. Kill me."

I sit with this thought for a minute. It's not the first time. "It's hard for me to understand how he can love me and still be capable of killing me, Bonnie, but he is. I know it."

"That's heavy," she pauses, debating. "You're right." She meets my eyes, hers sea-colored and shrewd. "He would kill you, in the right circumstances. He'd hate himself forever, but he still wouldn't be able to stop."

"He's better at relationships. When he's on animal blood, anyway. Damon is safer, physically," I compare.

"Damon would never hurt me, never lose that kind of control. At his worst, when everyone he cared about had chosen Stefan over him, he didn't lift a finger toward me and he had every chance. He has more control over his bloodlust, too, by far. But when he's pushed too far, he's capable of almost anything else."

I tap my fingernail against my glass, pensively. "They are so similar in some ways, those Salvatore boys. They both feel so much, more than they can really handle, and they deal with it badly."

Bonnie cocks her head at me. "Sounds like a good match for someone I know."

I smile sadly. She's right, but feeling too much doesn't make the three of us match in a good way. The three of us are kerosene and gasoline and matches.

"I love Stefan, as terrible as parts of him are. But Damon and I are…gravitational. I can't be near him and even consider trying to be anything to Stefan. It would be beyond impossible, even if I didn't know how much it would hurt him."

"What if you were with Damon?" asked Bonnie philosophically. "Wouldn't it be a relief, in a lot of ways?"

She says it with a straight face but I can't help but smile. "Very funny."

Bonnie laughs. "I know, I know, but seriously."

"That crazy pull, lust… It isn't enough to base a relationship on. I mean, he does have kind of a reputation of being beyond great in bed. What if this is just lust, but lust squared, or cubed or something? Everybody says that kind of thing fades over time, when you are married and together a long time. Plus, he's way too protective to let me stay human, so if we were together, it would be a looong time."

"Is that all you feel for him?" Bonnie says. She's really taking her job as devil's advocate seriously.

"No. Stefan feels like home to me. Damon-," I frown, thinking of sleeping with my head on his lap the other night. "Actually, Damon feels like home too. I can be silent with both of them, and it is totally comfortable. I trust him. I know he can do bad things, that he probably will, but I trust that he means well when it comes to me. He takes care of me."

I smile in memory. "He hates crying. I can tell, but when I cry, he tries really hard to make it better. It makes him all but jump out of his skin with discomfort but he doesn't bail on me. The other night after Stefan ruined our plan to kill Klaus, he sang to me, to get me to calm down and fall asleep. He sat up on the couch all night with my head on his lap and he didn't try a thing. He just let me sleep and he stayed with me."

"Ahhh," Bonnie melts back against her chair back and smiles. "That's really cute." She purses her lips. "Dang it, you didn't say you were going to talk me into liking him."

"That's just it, Bonnie. He does something really sweet, like playing video games with Jeremy and then he'll run off and kill somebody or sleep with some girl, and then if I need him, he's on my porch immediately. What am I supposed to do with that?"

"He hasn't killed anyone that wasn't trying to kill us in quite a while. Is he sleeping with somebody?"

I wrinkle my brow. "I don't think so, actually. Not since Stefan killed Andie, which he was surprisingly upset about considering he compelled her."

"Did he compel her to let him bite her, or did he compel her to be his girlfriend?" Bonnie asks.

"Good point. I'm really not sure. Now that I think about it, I think Damon would be insulted to think he had to compel a girl to date him."

"He did with Caroline."

"Yeah, but he just did that to stay close to me, to spy on the girl that was dating his brother. That was a long time ago."

Bonnie shrugs. "Anyway, the point is, do you love Damon?"

I shiver. "Honestly, Bonnie. I don't know. All I know is that he affects me. I can't be indifferent to him and I am afraid I can't stay away from him."

I pause and try to identify what is yanking at my guts instead of running from it.

"I'm scared," I whisper, and look up at Bonnie. "I'm scared to death of him, of giving into that feeling. I thought I didn't want to touch him because it was wrong and I wouldn't be able to stop if I did."

She raises an eyebrow at me. "Guess you were right about that one."

"I was, yeah, but giving in to touching him didn't make me less scared. The possibility of Damon-," I shake my head. "I'm more scared of him than of Klaus and I really can't tell you why or what that means."

Bonnie crosses her arms. "I know why. But I don't think you are ready to hear the answer yet."

She rises and hugs me hard, not letting me go for a long time. "I don't envy you, Elena. I know I should. Two super hot, complex guys fighting over you, both of them very good in some ways and very bad in others. They both adore you and I know you love them both, however you want to categorize it. They are kind of your family now."

She stands up and regards me with that too-adult light in her eyes. "But it can't end well, and I think it sucks because you deserve to be happy after all this. You've only ever done the right thing, the kindest thing, given all the crappy choices that have been forced on you. You deserve only good, but these boys-," she sighs.

"They are going to hurt you. Now, and later. No matter who you end up with. If I was a real fairy godmother, I'd give you a lifetime with each."

I realize that I'm crying, biting my bottom lip. "Bonnie-you're amazing. I don't know what I did to deserve a friend like you." I get up and hug her again.

"I can't ever thank you enough for all the times you've put your ass on the line to help me out of trouble, to help Stefan and Damon. We all really appreciate you. Even Damon respects you. He calls you Witchy to keep you at arm's length, because I think he's a little bit scared of you."

She grins. "I would love to believe _that _was true."

I look out at the street, peaceful and calm. Kids are playing in the yard of the house down the street. "I guess I just always thought that when you fell in love, you automatically wouldn't love anybody else again, ever, or really be that attracted to anyone else."

"That would be nice." Bonnie shrugs. "I get the idea that it might not be that simple though. I think it is way too possible to love more than one person. What I do know is that you can't have a relationship, a romantic relationship, with more than one person. You are going to have to choose, before life somehow chooses for you."

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Thanks to everyone who has been leaving reviews, and especially to LynLucky, who has been motivating me to post even faster, which isn't a problem since I can't seem to do anything but write this week. I tried to drive home from work and by the time I got home, I'd covered the whole windshield and side window with dry erase marker notes about plot and dialogue for this. The further you get in, the better the story gets, too. Next chapter, Damon's new plan to kill Klaus and why it is kind of terrible for Elena.


	8. The Siren Plan

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Vampire Diaries or any of its characters, dialogue or plot. Warnings for explicit adult language, for this chapter and the whole story to come._

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**ELENA POV**

I lock my front door and pull my phone out of my purse to check it. Nothing.

Damon sent me a text earlier, but I just keep waiting for the punch line. I open the text and read it again.

**Damon: New plan for K. Get the whole mob together tonight at your house. Brother dearest is a don't ask don't tell.**

I frown at the screen as I use my keychain to unlock my car. It makes no sense. When Damon has a new plan, he usually tells me right away. He doesn't have the kind of patience it takes to set up meetings. If he's postponing, that means he's off working on the plan already.

God, I hope it isn't as reckless and vicious as his normal plans. Or maybe I should hope the opposite, since it is a miracle Klaus hasn't already slaughtered the whole town with Stefan doing his best to provoke him.

I consider skipping school to go look for Damon, but I slept through half a day of classes the night after he came to my room. Since then, our only contact has been this text, which is not a good sign. I can't remember the last time I went through a whole day without seeing him. It's been three days. I miss him.

I make a face at my phone, angry that we are already playing out the needy-girl-and-uncommitted-boy- after-a-one-night-stand scenario. Was I just a fun game of hard-to-get for him?

I open my car door and resolve to not overthink things. I put my keys in the ignition and a hand comes up out of the backseat and locks over my mouth.

I scream futilely and then throw myself to the left, dropping below the level of the seat to break the man's grip. I run for the house while I reach into my purse. For my cell phone or my vervain syringe, I'm not sure which.

Damon appears in front of me so suddenly that I run into him at full speed. He doesn't budge, which of course means the impact slams all the air out of my lungs.

He takes my upper arms to steady me and his lips form a laughing smile that doesn't make it to his eyes.

"Easy there, tiger. Nice moves. I might have to tip Ric the next time I see him for a job well done."

I punch him in the stomach, putting the full force of my core muscles behind it. He does some sort of dodge so that I connect but not as hard as I want to. He wags a chastening finger at me.

"Careful, Elena. You don't want to hurt your hand."

I roll my eyes and snatch my purse off the ground, stomping back toward my car. I can't remember what about him I could have possibly missed.

Of course when I get back in the car, he's already sprawled in the passenger seat, whistling tunelessly. This is even more annoying now that I know he's capable of perfect pitch. At least he's wearing sunglasses, conjured out of nowhere. I don't think I could take those mocking ice blue eyes in my current mood.

"What do you want, Damon? I'm going to be late for school."

"Simmer down, Gilbert. Yes, I did that for kicks, but if you think about it, it was pretty good self-defense practice, and you got an A+." He grins lasciviously. "Wanna spar for some extra credit? I'm great at grappling on the mat."

I pull out of the driveway and contemplate whether it would be a waste of resources to use the vervain syringe on him just to shut him up. Of course, with my luck I might need more than one vervain syringe just to make it through the average Wednesday at school. Best to conserve my ammunition.

I take a deep breath and remember what my mom used to say when Jeremy was being particularly annoying. _He's just doing it to get a reaction out of you, honey. If you ignore him, he'll eventually stop._

"So, what's the new plan?" I ask, my tone Caroline-perky.

He gives me a look. I ignore it.

"Are you armed?" he asks instead.

I shoot a glance his way. "One vervain syringe. Why? What happened?"

"Where is it?"

"In my purse. Seriously, Damon, you're scaring me."

He takes my purse and puts it underneath his legs. "Seriously, Elena, I don't want you to stake me before breakfast. I'm just being careful."

"Why would I want to use my weapons against _you_?" I ask, ignoring the fact that I'd been considering it moments before.

He peeks over the top edge of his sunglasses at me and his teeth flash whitely as he grins unrepentently. I look away and realize I've drifted just a bit over the center line and jerk the wheel back on track.

"I can think of lots of reasons, unfortunately," he says.

Was that a reference to the other night?

"But the current one is that I have a new plan to get rid of Klaus-kins that is unsurpassed in its brilliance and lack of reliance on my crazy brother."

I try to follow. "That's why you're here, or that's why I'm going to want to stake you?"

"Both."

I groan. "Why can't you ever come up with a plan I actually approve of?"

"Um, because you're grouchy?" he ventures and I smack him.

"Ouch. Proved my point," he says cheerfully.

"Spit it out, Salvatore. I've got AP anatomy and physiology at 8."

He opens his mouth and I glare at him. Wisely, he closes his mouth again.

"So, we're going to un-stake Elijah, take our whole raggle-taggle army into Klaus's mansion, have a Hybrid Chainsaw Massacre (sponsored by Toyota)," he adds in a radio-commercial-falsetto, then continues without missing a beat. "I'm going to find a secret weapon or two and Elijah and I are going to put a couple of fancy chair legs through Klaus the anti-Santa before he steals Christmas."

I shake my head as if to clear it. "I think it is a measure of my growing insanity that I actually just understood that."

"Just remember, a shared delusion is halfway to reality," he says with an insincere smile.

"You're a little wired this morning. You didn't snatch the Starbucks barista for breakfast, did you?"

"A venti Brittany? Please." Damon says disdainfully. "Those girls always taste like cheap Cover Girl. I wish I could get my hands on whatever women's magazine told them to spread their makeup all the way down their throats."

I pull into the high school parking lot and choose a spot far from the front so that my doors are less likely to get dented by hormonal young boys and their trucks.

"No, never underestimate the energy boost you get from a hot-off-the-press evil plan."

"I think in this case it is a plan to fight evil, Damon," I stage-whisper. "Shhh. I won't tell if you won't."

He adjusts his sunglasses, which are black, expensive, and make him impossibly more handsome. "Good point. I have a reputation to maintain, after all."

I try to get out and he catches me by the back of my belt and pulls me back into the driver's seat.

"Damon! I'm going to be late."

"Yeah, about that." He closes my door and his lips twitch the way they do when he forgets for a second to guard his expression. "I may have been stalling too long, but I really do have to tell you this before tonight."

I give him my best parentally piercing look complete with crossed arms and pursed lips. "Why?"

"Because if I tell you in front of everyone, you will freak out and everybody will spend lots of time shouting at me for being a jerk and no time at all buying into my brilliant master plan. This saves time. You can shout at me, then forgive me because you are Elena and slightly worse at holding a grudge than Jesus. After which you'll realize that this will actually work and is worth a wee bit of sacrifice." He holds up his fingers with about a centimeter between them to show the diminutive nature of my potential sacrifice.

"Damon, just tell me what it is already."

"Ok." He leans away just a little bit, which worries me even more.

"So, Elijah is a good ally, because he is an Original and has clear, mostly known motivations. He's pretty tough, even though I have demonstrably kicked his ass multiple times."

My eyes are starting to hurt from being rolled so often. If Damon and I ever dated, I'd probably injure my eyes. And maybe get brain damage from multiple orgasms.

I try to wipe that thought out of my brain. Fortunately, Damon is too busy being cocky to notice my blush.

"Not everybody can be as tough and strong as me, so we'll forgive Elijah that one and consider him a decent wingman, which the lesser Salvatore is currently out of the running for due to his recent Benedict Arnolding. Elijah wants Klaus dead, and he wants his family's bodies, which we have. This is good. However, relying on this sort of thing has backfired for us before. To be honest, I'm a little pissed about our last plan going down the drain. I'm ready to be done with this Klaus thing and moving on to the next bigger, badder villain."

I nod impatiently, sneaking a look at the clock.

"The only thing," Damon explains to me, "that has always worked is you."

"Me? Are you kidding? I've _personally _screwed up like 75% of our plans."

"More like 82%, but let's not get critical. No, what has worked is that people who are loyal to you almost always stay loyal. There have been a couple notable exceptions but for the most part, people devoted to Elena tend to remain devoted to Elena until acted upon by a greater force in an opposing direction."

"So you did go to school at some point," I can't resist teasing.

"Elena, life is long. And boring. The fact that I've lived long enough to actually try education as a method of entertainment should be frightening to you if you ever consider becoming a vampire."

"Ok, so you're saying we need Elijah to be loyal to me."

"Right. We've got a point in our favor because he will feel terrible for breaking his word. We have a second point because he was half in love with Katherine for centuries after knowing her for a few days. Which, not to be insulting to the lady in question, suggests that he might have been more drawn by her looks than her winning personality."

"Looks that I have."

"Exactly." He rewards me with a smile so lovely that I have to look away and pretend to be studying the scenery of the parking lot.

"So, you want me to talk him into being on our side? Fine, that doesn't actually sound that hard. Can I go to class now?"

"Not yet, because I'm rapidly becoming a pessimist, and because I am Machiavellian plan maker."

I wait.

"I want you to be very nice to him. Actually, I sort of want you to make him fall in love with you."

I give him a look that by all rights should have turned him to stone. "Because my love life isn't complicated enough?"

He doesn't even have the grace to look uncomfortable. "It's not _real_, Elena," he wheedles. "Anyway, Elijah is a dyed-in-the-wool gentleman, straight from the days when they actually hand-dyed wool and it looked like crap. If you tell him once this is all over that you don't return his affections, he'll bow gracefully out of your life and remain eternally devoted to you, at which point I can call him for help whenever you manage to get yourself into another life-threatening situation." He checks his wrist, upon which he does not wear a watch. "Or about next Tuesday, by my count."

He folds his hands and edges a little bit further away from me. "What do you think?"

"I think you're a madman." I get out of the car.

Damon blocks my path, taking off his sunglasses and grabbing my arm. "Elena, listen to me."

"I have been listening to you. When you start making sense, we can talk about it again."

He's serious now, ducking his head to meet my eyes because I think he knows I can't remember how to walk when he does that. I glare at the pavement in a futile defensive move and try to stomp away but he still has a hold on my arm.

"Elena, we practically have an army. At any given point, we have a powerful witch, a handful of vampires, an intermittently loyal hybrid, a vampire hunter with a flair for weapon design who can't be killed by supernatural beings, a younger brother who can communicate with the spirit world and is likewise immune to being collateral damage if he could keep his damn jewelry on, aaand Matt." He shrugs. "Not really sure what he's good for, but maybe he can drive the getaway car."

I must not look convinced because he charges on.

"We have that army because each and every one of them loves you truly, devotedly, to-the-death-will-we-fight-for-Elena." His voice drops a register, and for the first time today, I'm talking to actual Damon, not his snarkily deflective alter-ego.

"That's the only thing that has ever worked for us. People will fight for you, Elena. They are willing, in startling numbers, to die for you and I am highly inclined to let them as long as it _keeps working. _It is not going to keep working if we can't put Klaus down permanently very soon. So no, it is not absolutely necessary that you make Elijah fall in love with you, but it would make many things safer."

He releases my arm. "I know you think I'm reckless. But you_ know_ you can trust that whatever I want is guaranteed to be the thing most likely to keep you alive."

"I know that, Damon," I agree quietly.

Oh this hurts. I knew that pleasure would come with pain. I knew it, and just like Bonnie said, it didn't make it any easier. I laugh humorlessly.

"I just-, I guess I'm surprised because your protectiveness never involved pimping me out before."

His head jerks back as if I slapped him. "Elena, I don't expect you to sleep with him. Or kiss him. Crap, you don't even have to hold his hand if you don't want to. He's old-fashioned. In his time, the more coy a woman was, the more becoming her behavior."

I raise my eyebrows. "Really, Damon? You may not be as old as Elijah, but you are definitely from a time when that was true and you haven't had a problem with heading straight from the meet-cute to the bedroom."

My eyes are skewering him. The most oblivious male on earth could not miss the reference to the other night.

He leers at me and slides his sunglasses back on. "Luckily for my nightlife, no one has accused me of being a gentleman in decades."

Not the answer I was hoping for. Well, Caroline always says men aren't subtle. Maybe I shouldn't be, either.

I take a step closer, even though there is no one in the parking lot to overhear us. "After what happened between us two nights ago, you really, seriously are asking me to seduce another man?"

"Absolutely." The lines of his face are flawless and blank of information. I stare in frustration at the opaque lenses of his sunglasses.

"How would I even do that? I've had a relationship with, count 'em, two men in my life."

"Just be yourself." He shrugs and his lips curve. "It's always worked in the past. Plus, his lower half is already in love with Katherine. As for his upper half, you are much more his rigidly-moral type than Katherine, as delightful as her ass may be."

"That isn't going to work, Damon," I say witheringly.

I'm glad he's giving me something to be angry about, to hide the hurt that is slowly closing my throat. "Elijah already knows me, and magically, he has managed to resist falling in love with me."

Damon rocks back on the heels of his boots and puts his hands in his jacket pockets. "That is not strictly true. He was quite taken with you, actually."

I glare at his feet. I hate every part of him.

"Hey," he says brightly. "I'll help you. I could teach anybody the art of seduction in ten easy steps." He wiggles his eyebrows. "For you, more like four."

"Goodbye, Damon." I push past him, clutching my upper arms and hugging myself for the bare comfort it offers.

"Does that mean you'll do it?" he shouts after me.

"I'll do it," I mutter, knowing he'll hear. I blink back tears furiously. I'll do it. If Damon already got what he wanted from me two nights ago, and Stefan wants to kill me half the time even though he can't bear to let his brother have me, I might as well go make an ass of myself flirting with a centuries-old vampire with a decades-out-of-style haircut.

Fortunately, whatever I do, Klaus is likely to make me a compulsion-numbed blood slave any day now, so soon I won't have to think at all. Somehow, that seems like it might be the highlight of this whole, wretched year.

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_Author's Note: Wow, that one kind of got away from me. Damon did NOT want to stop stalling and actually tell her the plan. Anyway, what do you think? Do you like the banter, or should I skip it in favor of action or steam? Votes? Feedback on dialogue? I love reviews…. Next chapter, some action. I love a good fight scene!_


	9. War Council

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Vampire Diaries or any of its characters, dialogue or plot. Warnings for explicit sex__, violence__ and adult language, for this chapter and the whole story to come._

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**Elena POV**

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I enter class when it is already halfway over because if I hide in the ladies room, I am going to cry and I am sick to death of tears. So I endure the glare I get from the teacher, and as soon as he turns his attention back to his skeleton prop, I speed-text Bonnie.

**Elena: You'll never guess what Damon asked me to do now.**

**Bonnie: Am I old enough to be hearing this?**

**Elena: He wants me to seduce Elijah.**

**Bonnie: WHAAAAT?! Meet up after class?**

I nod to her. She barely waits until we've cleared the door before she turns on me.

"How? Why? For real?"

I explain the whole mess, glad to feel anger burning away the hurt.

"How could he?" she asks with comforting indignation.

"He's trying to protect me. You know Damon. My life at all costs." I roll my eyes. "And I do mean all."

"Are you really defending him?"

"His antique brain has this idea that no touching will be necessary because Elijah is old-fashioned."

Bonnie's mouth curves up on one side. "I'm sure that's what he's telling himself." Her eyes go a bit vague for a second.

"Bonnie? Are you, um, _seeing_ something?"

She snaps back to reality. "No, not really. It's just," she shifts her weight back uncomfortably, "kind of a good plan, that's all."

"Bonnie!" I gasp.

"No, really. Elijah definitely liked you. You know, I have a hard time picturing Damon being ok with Elijah actually getting close to you. Didn't he like stake Elijah with a small tree or something the first time he laid hands on you?"

I look down the hall. "Yeah, sort of."

"So he's lying to himself a little bit. Nothing new." She touches my arm. "You're steering this ship, though, Elena. It's your body. Don't do anything you don't want to do. Just be polite and friendly to Elijah. That'll probably be enough."

"I can't believe you're on his side," I gripe.

"I'm not!" she protests. "Me, on Damon Salvatore's side? I think not."

**DAMON POV**

I finish outlining my plan to Elena's odd little army and lean up against the arm of her sofa, waiting for responses. It is too bizarre, all these people listening to me, looking to me for leadership. I feel like I woke up in the body of a Scout troop leader. Figures my troop would be co-ed. Tyler's missing, because he's still Klaus's bitch and Jeremy's long gone to Colorado, but everyone else is here.

I didn't include the part where Elena twists Elijah around her delicate little finger, but from the speculative looks Bonnie's been giving me all night, she knows. In fact, some of those looks make me think that Elena has done some kissing and telling.

"I thought the stake we needed to kill Klaus burned with Michael," Caroline said.

"Right." I give her a crookedly confident smile. "Leave that part to me."

"We'll have the dagger we take out of Elijah," Elena pointed out.

"Does that work on Klaus?" Ric asked dubiously.

"Maybe for a while. If I can't deliver on time (_highly unlikely),_" I stage-whispered behind my hand to Elena. "Then we'll try the dagger and get him a more permanent kind of popsicle stick when one can be arranged. "

"Can't we burn the body?" Matt asked.

I tried to keep from sneering at him. "Nope. You should have seen the torching I gave Elijah's body when we staked him the last time. Not so much as a singed eyebrow."

Why did Elena even invite him? Did she have a thing for football players? Maybe. Probably, since Stefan had joined the team like five seconds after meeting her. I was so much better than him at football, too. It was just so boring to play it at human speed. Hardly worth the time.

"So we're supposed to just like, storm in?" Caroline said skeptically. "Shouldn't we try to be sneaky in case we're outnumbered?"

"Sure. Outside guards get the shaft before inside guards," I smirk at my own pun. "The hybrids are out of town, thanks to my psycho baby bro, but I'm sure Klaus has something else nasty lined up. He's the sort to travel with an entourage. Plus, I'm hoping to hide Bonnie in the next room. She can sneak in while I'm distracting Klaus by slaughtering his army."

"I've been experimenting with trying to retrofit a shotgun and an automatic rifle with wooden bullets," Ric offers. Now that is the kind of participation I appreciate.

"Any chance they'll be ready this week?" Elena asks.

Ric makes a face that doesn't look inspiring. "It's not going all that well," he admits.

"Isn't this all a little bit too complicated?" Bonnie asks. "I mean, normally we kind of have a one-shot thing to pull off. This is a lot of different ways to try to kill somebody at once."

"Hey, I'm not going to complain about how many ways we kill him. The more the better," I say lightly.

I look over at Elena. She's being suspiciously cooperative. A lock of her hair is tangled in the buttons of her thermal Henley and I suppress the urge to go and work it free. The memory of her hair dragging over my cock has me faking a cough and moving to stand behind the couch instead of next to it.

I catch Bonnie watching me with widened eyes that tell me she saw the steam flash behind my eyes. Just to mess with her, I give her a smoldering stare with my best fake-seductive smile. She purses her lips disapprovingly and I drop the act, flaring my eyes aggressively at her. Stay out of my business if you don't like it, witchy.

Elena screams.

Seems like a bit of an overreaction. I was obviously just screwing with Bonnie, not being serious. I look up to Elena, and follow her eyes to the window.

There is a vampire outside the window.

A woman with fangs out, eyes bloody and fierce, hissing with bloodlust. Elena flinches. I'm standing next to her, though I don't remember crossing the room. She backs up into me as she turns a slow circle and I steady her without thinking.

"They're surrounding us," she whispers.

Caroline zips back into the living room. I didn't see her leave. Man, I'm a little off my game tonight.

"They're at all the windows on the first floor." She rounds on me with her scolding class president face. "I thought you said all the hybrids left town!"

I hate it when she tries that shit on me. I'm not her whipped boyfriend, thank God, because that voice is the one that's going to be ordering him to take out the trash and lower the toilet seat for the rest of his too-long life.

"At least I'm not dating one," I remind her and she narrows her overly-mascara'ed eyes at me.

"Look closer," I tell her. "Those are the full-octane, low-fuel-efficiency, American manufactured vampires. Told you Klaus had more. And _that_ is why you don't let people with more evil than brains make the plan," I complain in Ric's general direction. He is too busy crashing through the kitchen to respond.

"Shit!"

"Stakes in the car?" I ask dryly, lounging back onto the couch, my hands locked behind my head.

"What are you _doing?" _Elena asks me in disbelief.

I know they might not all be vampires, and even if they are, they might not all be un-invited to this house (I've made that mistake before. When _will _Elena learn to stop ordering pizza and just do carry-out?). Still, I can respond just as quickly to an intruder from an extra couple feet from Elena and everyone needs to simmer down a little bit.

I never would have chosen this as my army, but my minion-recruiting skills are a little rusty. If they had more female special forces, I'd just transition a couple and be in business. However, my charm doesn't work on guys and I failed Friend Making long before they had kindergarten classes to teach that kind of crap. So this is the army I'm stuck with, and I'd rather they didn't go jumping at shadows. A few vampires outside a mostly secure house is not a huge issue.

The actual problem is that I'm 90% certain this is a trap. Why send minions who can't get in the house unless they are to lure you out of the house? We can't just leave them there and do nothing. But if I go out to deal with them, who will stay and look out for Elena? I chafe at the idea of trusting any of these clowns to protect her, but sending anybody but Ric or maybe Caroline outside is pretty obviously going to be me feeding them to the lions for the greater good. Bonnie could maybe drop some of them, but not permanently. I sort of miss Baby Gilbert and his meat cleaver.

"I've got a shotgun in my truck," Matt says with grim resolve. My eyebrow goes up. Point to the quarterback. He starts toward the door.

"Matt, don't!" Elena calls. "They'll have you before you make it halfway there." She turns to me. "I'm calling Stefan."

"For help?" I'm insulted. "Do you not remember the part where his ideas involved crashing you into the river? And the part where he totally fubared our last Klaus extermination plan?"

I turn to Caroline. "What's the count?"

"Eight, I think, although there could be more."

"See," I tell Elena, standing up and rolling my sleeves above my elbows. "Not even a baker's dozen. Not a thing to worry about."

Bonnie's smiling, though incredulously. "Are you really rolling up your sleeves?"

"You have no idea how many shirts I've wasted on hybrids lately," I tell her seriously.

"Caroline." She perks up because I almost never use her real name. I nod toward the bathroom and she follows me in.

"Have I ever showed you how to rip a heart out?" I ask, keeping my voice down so the window sniffers can't hear me.

Veins shoot across her face in response and she shakes her head eagerly.

I hold up my hands, secretly pleased. "Whoa, killer. Not mine."

I show her the ridge where the ribcage ends. "Right up under there. Make sure you miss the ribs but go straight up from there. It'll be easier for you to get the angle right since you're a little bit shorter. Most times you'll hit the lungs but you can go right through them if you don't get distracted by the feel of it."

She nods, listening intently. Elena's friends do have their moments, I admit reluctantly. Plus, becoming a vampire did a nice personality makeover on Caroline.

"Remember, you're going to have to use all your strength, especially since you're newly turned. Punch in with a closed fist like you're trying to make it all the way through to their throat."

"Not with an open hand?" she asks.

"No. When you butt up against the heart, open your fingers then. You'll know what it is because it's harder than everything else and you can feel it contracting."

She grins and follows me back into the living room. Elena's waiting with her concerned face and I resist rolling my eyes. I may be screwing around a little bit, but I don't have time for a heart to heart right now.

"Wait," she says, pointing to the windows. "Eight vampires." She points to Caroline and I. "Two vampires. How are these even odds again?"

"Because we're amazing?" I attempt. I catch myself before saying _I_ instead of _we_. Caroline could use the ego boost for pre-fight confidence. I give my lips a playful twist and am rewarded by Elena's eyes dropping to my mouth before she jerks them back up.

"And we're smarter than those meatheads," Caroline adds.

"Why don't you just let Bonnie knock them out?"

I give her a wounded look. "Where's the fun in that? Don't be a killjoy, Elena, I haven't gotten out a lot recently." I turn to Caroline. "Do _you_ want to play with a handicap?"

She shakes her head, fighting to keep the veins off her face. "It'll be good practice, Elena."

"Tell you what," I say placatingly. "I'll give you a signal if I need help. I'll bark like a dog if I want Bonnie to unleash the Vampire EMP*."

Her cute little mouth gapes open. "Seriously, Damon? _You're_ going to bark like a dog?"

"Seriously, Elena?" I whine back at her. "As if I need a safeword," I toss out scornfully.

I hold out my arm to Caroline as if to escort her to the dance. "Ready for a little Tae Bo, Vampire Barbie?"

"Does that make you Vampire Ken?"

"You wish." I give her a flirty little smirk.

She takes my arm eagerly. Has she always been this bloodthirsty? I like it. Well, when it isn't aimed at me for trying to eat her traitor father, anyway. Who among us doesn't have daddy issues, now that I think about it?

"Hearts and broken necks, Blondie. Head for Ric's trunk if you feel like you want a weapon, or rip one off the tree out front."

Ric tosses her the keys and makes as if to follow us. God bless him, he's already whittled a wooden spoon into a stake. Or, since it _is_ the Gilbert house, maybe that's how their wooden spoons always are.

Still, I stop and shake my head at him. "No way. Your ring isn't working lately and you can't go offing yourself until you at least get Elena up to benchpressing 20 full pounds."

He looks mutinous, jaw set under that perpetual five o'clock shadow. "Ric, man, as soon as we're out there, distracted, Klaus will have probably sent someone to get inside. A human or a vampire who's already invited in. If it's a vampire, Bonnie can knock 'em down and you can stake 'em. If it's a human," I shrug. "I'm sure you can handle that."

"Can we _please_ fight now?" Caroline begs.

I grin at her, but add, "Look out, though, they could be after whichever of you they think would be leverage against Stefan."

Elena grabs my hand and Caroline looks murderous, as if someone has just popped all the balloons on the Homecoming parade float.

"Kiss for the departing soldier?" I tease with a tight smile. I'm getting impatient.

"Just be careful, ok? Don't get too cocky."

"Me?" I ask in all innocence, and head for the door. "Two for one on the porch, Caroline."

* * *

_**Author's Note: EMP= electromagnetic pulse. Levels all electronic devices, or in this case, vampires. _


	10. Vampire Killing 101

_Author's Note: The soundtrack for the fight scene is Dan Auerbach (of the Black Keys) "I Want Some More." _

_ watch?v=mA7jj1EO_7M_

_Never mind the lyrics, but the beat will roll you right into the right mood for the scene!_

_When I was writing the fight scene, one line made me stop and crack up laughing. See if you can figure out which one. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Vampire Diaries or any of its characters, dialogue or plot. Warnings for explicit __violence__ and adult language, for this chapter and the whole story to come._

* * *

**Damon POV**

"Two for one on the porch, Caroline."

I open the door and our fists slam into the chests of the waiting vampires as if we'd choreographed it. I really am off my game, though, because there were three on the porch instead of two. I check on Caroline after I finish my first.

"Nope, that's the kidney. Higher up in the grab bag, sweetheart." She throws the kidney and jams her arm back into the convulsing vampire's chest with more enthusiasm than precision.

"Not on the porch!" I hear Elena's voice call as I get ready to drop the steaming heart.

I quickly switch to chucking it into the face of the tall, Hispanic vampire coming up the front steps. It slaps wetly into his nose and he falters. I take his wrist and pull him forward, stepping aside and slamming the heel of my other hand into the back of his shoulder, breaking the arm and dislocating the shoulder at the same time, so that his arm is in two pieces, held together by mostly torn flesh. I let the predator take over my face now that I'm outside. Veins crackle eagerly across my cheekbones. My fangs ache for blood.

The Hispanic vampire falls screaming to his knees, and I knee him in the chin with enough force to break his neck like a dry stick. He goes down like a broken toy.

I grin with fangs and vault off the porch after a mean-looking brunette wearing a leather jacket. She comes at me with her teeth and I twist her chin until she's looking over her own shoulder and leave her on the ground. Halfway done, already.

Caroline is kicking the crap out of a well-muscled guy with a buzz cut who looks like Klaus might have nabbed him from the recruiting office.

"Neck!" I shout at her, not wanting her to waste energy. She can play once we're down to even odds.

A gangly boy who looks too young to buy cigarettes rushes me and I front kick him into my favorite tree without breaking stride.

Last October, Jenna was going to hire somebody to limb all the trees up to seven feet off the ground, and Stefan offered to do it. He came over with the chainsaw and took off all the limbs, but left 6-8 inches of each of the sturdiest branches sticking out, ends taken off at an angle to make a live growing mace in the front yard. Can't help but love the kid when he does things like that. Where was that foresight when he got rid of all the hybrids but not the pure-breds?

I've killed at least two vampires since last fall by kicking them into that tree, and I don't know what Stef's count is.

A slinky blonde with a stake rushes me, moving so fast I don't even have a chance to register her cup size. As soon as she grabs me, I know she's a cougar.

Old, strong and mean. I get my right wrist free immediately. She can squeeze any bone in my body into a fine paste, so it'll be best not to let her get her fingers around anything important. She does just that to my left wrist, hissing in satisfaction as I grit my teeth at the horrible sound of bone splintering and grinding. Ooh, I hate that sound. Especially when they are my bones.

I dodge left and leap back right in a side kick with full momentum that I refuse to admit I learned from watching Ric train Elena. It breaks the vampire's knee and she goes down fighting, that stake crammed up tight under my ribs.

"Bitch!" I spit, kicking her in the ribs for sheer spite before I rip that stake out and feed it back to her, sharp end first. I should have gone for the heart, but she only missed mine by about an inch and that makes me kind of moody. So the stake goes in through her mouth like a deadly dildo, the end embedded in her brain stem. Her eyes go flat.

I check over my shoulder. Caroline's taken out G.I. Joe and is working on another one that looks enough like him to be a sibling. By my count, that's eight.

I resign myself to being responsible, and take the stake out to sink it properly in her chest. Old as she was, she might wake up before I finish mop-up duty. Stabbing the brain stem is as good as a broken neck, but it still heals.

As keyed up as I am, there's no hesitation when I feel the touch on my chin. I spin in the direction the vampire is trying to twist my neck and I'm just barely fast enough. Tendons scream and tear, but my neck stays intact, so I get to be awake to hear Elena's scream from the house.

I break two of my attacker's ribs with an elbow before I come up growling and realize it's the kid I pincushioned into the tree. Must have missed the heart. That neck twist came with a lot more force than it looks like he should have had. I hate it when people turn the kiddies. It makes them so easy to underestimate.

I thrust for his heart, but he jumps back. I grab his right arm and try to rip it off, but it doesn't tear. The older the vampire, the tougher the meat. The elbow dislocates, but it doesn't keep him from throwing me into the side of Elena's house, cracking the siding with my skull.

The impact rattles my brain and when I slide back to the ground, it is all I can do to keep my feet. The kid gets the jump on me in that extra second. He locks his scrawny hands around my neck and squeezes hard enough to tell me that I've got about two seconds to get him over his hissy fit before my head pops off like an overpressurized cap on a toothpaste tube.

Elena screams again, her scared scream instead of her surprised one, and I just don't have _time _for this kid's bullshit. Snake-quick, I bite off his nose. He lets go of me, screaming with a bubbling nasally sound that I would find funny if I didn't have a whole mouthful of nasty. I spit it in his face with a roar and use the whole force of my body to slam a fist up into his chest cavity. It's a good thing I took the extra run at him, because I barely make it and have to tear out just half of his heart.

New vampires have a consistency like sponge cake, but this one was more like putting a fist through layered beef jerky. Now my right hand is in rough shape, too.

He dies with satisfying speed and I blur toward the front door, letting his internal organs fall from my abused fingers as I run. Caroline is down, the second soldier on top of the fight now, but I don't have time for her. I knock him off of her by letting one of my pumping knees take him in the side of the head on my way to the door. It puts me off my stride and hurts more than I expected it to, so I'm happy to hear Bonnie call, "I got him, Damon, don't worry about us!"

Nice little level-headed witch. I know I should go back to the fight outside. I know Bonnie wouldn't lie to me, but by the time these thoughts have passed through my head, I'm already on the porch.

The front door is locked, so I blur to the window. Elena's standing in the middle of the living room and she must have heard me or sensed me because she looks up and our eyes come together like a head on collision. I half-expect the window to shatter in the impact.

I allow myself one second to drink her in, then two, and then I'm gone because she's not going to keep being ok if I continue staring at her instead of taking care of the bad guys.

I go back to Caroline, eyes and ears open for more of the enemy. She's on top of the soldier, pulling his guts out like a bad zombie movie. I shake my leg out to test my knee, but whatever I did to it has already healed so I do a fast lap around the house. I see nothing. I even check the roof, but all that is left are bodies. Fortunately, it is dark.

I go back to Caroline and stop her. The vampire is quivering, suffering but not dead.

"No, no. It's all about the angle. Know your anatomy." I guide her arm up into his open chest cavity, giving it a little push to make it past the lungs. "There, grab."

Once she removes the heart, I guide her arm through the angle once or twice more, listening carefully for sounds in the house.

She nods excitedly and fist bumps me. I go along with it because I'm buzzing, riding the high of kicking some minion ass. Maybe this is why Stefan left the regular vampire troops. Just for fun. I smile crookedly. When he's on the human stuff, the family resemblance gets to be more distinct.

"I owe you a tequila shot for every heart you got," I tell her, wiping off her face with the sleeve of my shirt (ruined despite my efforts). At least the black hides the blood fairly well. She's a mess, but there's not much I can do about her hair.

The veins recede and she looks nervously at me. "Do I look really bad? Matt's inside and I know we're broken up and all, but I don't want him to see me looking, you know, all freaky. No offense." She gives me her toothy beauty queen smile, unable to hold it in. "That was super fun. Thanks for not letting Bonnie zap them all."

"You ok?"

"Yup," she poses like a bodybuilder, flexing, and even I have to laugh. "They got nothing on me."

"Come on, killer. Let's get the body out of the house."

I clean off my own face as best I can, heading for the door.

I'm reasonably sure the fight is over, since I've heard nothing. Elena's covering a body with a beach towel emblazoned with bright hibiscus flowers and I give Matt a glare for not helping with the dirty work. A quick head count reveals everyone inside made it through fine. I get Ric and Caroline to take the body outside, then I do a round with stakes, re-doing all the ones with broken necks. Elena watches me with worried eyes from the porch. I wonder if she would like me better if I pretended to be upset while I did this. I decide it isn't worth the effort and just go for efficiency. I even do the noseless vampire with half a heart, just to be sure.

I brush past Elena, giving her a quick, close-mouthed smirk so she knows I'm ok. She's unhurt and doesn't look as shaken up as I was expecting. I have to keep my hands busy so I don't reach for her. It's easy when I see the blood staining my skin.

I gargle some tap water, washing away the taste of teen vampire nose and then make a quick phone call. Elena comes and stands in the doorway while I wash my face and hands.

"Are you ok?" she asks, looking more worried than she should considering I'm walking around just fine.

"Give me some credit," I tell her, but ruin it by wincing when a fragment of bone in my left wrist finds its way back into place. She comes forward, touching my arm.

"Damon, let me see."

I pull away, annoyed. I rock her world, she blows me off, and now she wants to play doctor? I don't think so. Fortunately, Caroline pokes her head around the corner, so I'm saved the sight of the hurt in Elena's eyes.

"Matt just left. I told him we didn't need help with the bodies. I'm starving!" she comes in and hops up on the counter, oblivious to the tension in the room. "Damon, tell me you keep a snack stash over here."

"No way," Elena says, looking horrified. "I'm not going to keep a bunch of blood bags in the fridge next to the iced tea."

Caroline raises her overly-plucked eyebrows. "What, and if you married Stefan and lived happily ever after, you were going to make him do what exactly? Keep all his blood in the fridge in the man-cave?"

I snicker at this, even though it earns me another glare from Elena. If she doesn't go vampire soon, she's going to get wrinkles from all that frowning.

Caroline is examining her hands. "Damon, when you taught me the heart thing, you didn't exactly mention how I'm ever going to get the blood out of my cuticles."

"Just paint 'em black. It goes with the pale and pasty complexion." It occurs to me as I make the joke that I haven't told Caroline about the goldmine of goth bars, where people _want _to be fed on. I'll tell her later. I owe her one for playing sidekick tonight, and kind of doing a great job, actually.

I walk back into the living room. "How'd it go?" I ask Ric.

Elena answers from behind me. "Pretty much just like you said. The guy that steam cleaned the carpets last week came screaming in the back door, Bonnie gave him a headache and Ric staked him."

"You screamed twice," I say accusingly, turning.

"He was really fast, Damon," Bonnie says. "He grabbed her before I could get him."

I shrug, trying to look nonchalant about that, though I'm not. One more second and he could have been out the door with her, though why Klaus wanted Elena again I wasn't sure. Maybe just habit?

"Anyway, I got this. You all can head home if you want," I tell them. Social hour is getting old. If I wanted to hang out with this many kids, I'd work in a daycare.

"No, I'll stay and help with graveyard duty," Ric offers. "You always get stuck with that."

"I hired help," I tell him. "But thanks for the offer."

Elena looks pissed. "You mean you compelled help."

I shrug. "What's the difference? You used to call me to bury your bodies. How is it any different now that I'm outsourcing? No offense, Elena, but all that digging was getting old."

She frowns.

"Your problem is that you think too much of free will, Elena. It's not all it's cracked up to be. Free will doesn't make people _happy_." I can't help that my voice twists on the last word. Just look at me. My free will is the jammed gas pedal on a car that's driving me straight into hell. "You know how I know?"

She opens her mouth, looking concerned, but instead of letting her ruin my punch line, I step close and breathe the answer in her ear, emphasizing every letter.

"B-D-S-M."

No one hears me, so I'm spared a tirade and possibly a weak punch in the face. Elena just takes a strangled breath, kind of coughs, and finds something to do in another room.

People filter out, and I tap out a text to Sheriff Liz, letting her know we just took out a 9-pack of vampires. I don't have to report my tally to her, but I do, because I like the way she looks at me after I knock off a few. All mature and worried but grateful.

Bonnie takes off to start researching spells that might help with the plan. Ric and I mop up the porch, because I don't want Elena thinking about the hybrid Jeremy killed there (as if I could stop her). Caroline and Elena clean up the living room. I don't know if there is any kind of girl talk that makes cleaning up blood more fun, but if so, those two have had plenty of opportunities to discover it.

Rick and I clean in companionable silence and I punch him lightly in the shoulder when we finish. "Call me when you figure out your new shotgun and I'll buy you a drink before we take it out in the woods and test it."

"Actually you owe me more than a drink. I bought some ballistic gel to test the penetration I could get with different woods."

I smirk but let the joke hang without embellishment. Ric half-smiles and keeps going. "I wanted to be sure I was getting enough from the blast caps to get velocity without just blowing the wood apart before impact. It's more delicate than you'd think."

"Would it be easier to just build a slug and figure it will shatter some on impact?"

"Maybe, but I think picking out all the little pieces of wood would incapacitate them for longer. Anyway, the gel was pricy, and I was hoping you'd foot the bill."

"No problem. Text me a total and I'll cover it."

"Why are vampires always loaded, anyway?"

"Ric, when you're this pretty, you don't need a day job. People just _give_ you money."

Caroline hears that from inside and snorts. "Were you always this in love with yourself, Damon, or did your ego just keep growing when your body stopped?"

"I was only half this bad as a human," I tell her without raising my voice. "But once I could overhear everything the ladies said about me when I walked by, it was pretty much a lost cause."

"You are so bad!" she laughs.

"Don't tell me you haven't enjoyed a little of that yourself," I tease. Vampirism doesn't cure insecurity, so something else must have done it. Probably I shouldn't say that to her face though, when she's distracted momentarily from her endless Team Stefan cheerleading.

"You guys know how rude it is to have conversations through doors in front of those of us without super hearing?" Elena says.

Later, I'm lounging on the couch, boots up on the generic oak coffee table, when I realize everyone else has left. I put my feet back on the floor, suddenly aware that I've overstayed. Alone with Elena is usually fun, but not today. Too late, she's right behind me, all lip-biting uncertainty.

When she looks at me like this, it used to give me hope. I can see emotion like an active volcano, churning away inside of her. But all that ever comes of it is smoke and ash.

I stand up about a half a pace too close and meet her eyes with equal parts confrontation and post-fight testosterone-driven desire. She looks at her feet, then at my lips. She crosses her arms but leans toward me just enough to make me think it's unconscious. Her breathing quickens.

Come on. I know telling a girl not to send mixed messages is like telling a fish not to swim, but Elena plays in a league all her own for being confusing.

I cock my head at her quizzically, because if I open my mouth, all will come out is a frustrated "What?" and that's not going to help anything.

"Damon-," she starts, but that's all she got.

She's biting her lip again and I reach out to stop her before I think it through. My fingers brush her face and she releases her lower lip. It is red from the abuse and just the slightest bit swollen. I'm _hungry_ and the blood rushing to her cheeks isn't helping either of my reactions to her.

I drop my hand.

She closes her eyes and for once she is fighting as hard as I am to not close the space between us. She wants me. I know it, can hear it, smell it. My cock leaps in response but I'm not interested in its advice.

I close the rest of the distance between us and her eyes go wide with relief, surprise, fear.

I drop my head and whisper, in a voice I've perfected because it _always_ makes her nipples hard, "Good night, Elena."

She still hasn't started breathing again by the time I let myself out. I feel the slightest twinge of guilt for leaving her alone after all that, with not even Jeremy in the house, but she has my number. She can call if she wants company. Obviously, she'd be more than open to another booty call even if she is way too cowardly to ask for it.

I should be jumping at the chance but instead I am walking away, disgusted and pissed off. It was a Hail Mary kind of chance I took the other night. The look in her eye scared the hell out of me when she told me about the talk she had with Stefan, how upset he was that we kissed. He may have tried to run her off Wickery Bridge right before that, but it obviously wasn't even going to slow her down in her run back into his arms.

When I saw that look, I knew my window of opportunity was closing. Elena's always going on and on about how much she "cares" about me. I figured all that was left was to make her admit how much she wants to jump my bones. I've never been certain she could love me. But I have been 100% positive since the day we met, since before she even tolerated my presence, that she wanted my body.

One part of my experiment was a success. With only a hint more invitation than usual, I had her naked and screaming my name. And somehow that didn't translate into _anything_ else. This is the first time I've come close to understanding what chicks are always going on about when they say it is wrong to have sex without love, to not respect their bodies and all that shit.

I don't know anything about respecting my body, but I'm not renting the use of it to Elena when she refuses to admit the tiniest bit of how much she really feels for me.

Fuck my stupid plan for Klaus. All I really want to do is blow out of town and leave her to play house with Stefan, who won't kill her if she is lucky, but will certainly kill many, many other people.

Never mind keeping blood bags in the house. Where are they going to keep all the corpses? I break into a run, heading for a town ten miles down the highway. I need to blow off some steam before I end up with some corpses of my own.

* * *

_Author's Note: Please leave a comment/review and let me know if you liked my fight scene!_


	11. A Gentleman and a Scholar

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Vampire Diaries or any of its characters, dialogue or plot. Warnings for explicit sex__, violence__ and adult language, for this chapter and the whole story to come._

* * *

**ELENA POV**

Damon has apparently been preparing. Before I got here, he moved two chairs and a little side table into the dungeon below the boarding house. It looks bizarre, like patio set meets the Spanish Inquisition.

I can't hold back a smile. "Are we having a tea party?"

"No point in sitting on the dusty floor while we wait for our hitman to wake up."

With little ceremony, he slides the dagger out of Elijah's chest and nods toward the door.

"What?"

Grimacing with impatience, he takes my arm and half-guides, half-pulls me out of the room, shooting the bolt with a clang.

"I am going to hide the dagger, and you are going to stay out here in the hall until I get back."

"Why? I thought the whole point was that Elijah wasn't going to be inclined to kill me."

"Getting daggered is a thirsty business, Elena, and you are not his breakfast," Damon says grimly. "Be a smart girl and stay in the hall."

When he returns, he brings two brimming crystal glasses of blood and sets them on the table.

"So you still haven't told me what I'm supposed to do," I remind him, tearing my eyes from the curve of his collarbone above his thin black sweater.

He settles into the chair with less than his usual lazy comfort.

"With him, it is going to be more about manners than flirting. Don't curse. Don't be clumsy or spill things. Be mindful of how you touch and handle objects," he demonstrates with the cup. "Pretty much anything American and casual is good to avoid."

"What? Why?"

"Because," he says tightly, his eyes rocketing between the coffin and the blood and his leg, which is bouncing twitchily. "For most of the last few centuries, casual meant rude. Manners used to be…it's kind of hard to explain. But people thought you were acting very purposefully, so being casual was insulting to the person you were with because you were showing that they were not worthy of your good behavior."

He nods once, as if satisfied. "Yup. That's pretty much it. So the more formal you can be, without being stiff, the better."

"That doesn't sound much like seducing," I say dubiously, though I certainly wouldn't mind if it didn't.

"With a couple of exceptions," he says, his lips twisting. He shifts in his seat and watches the coffin. Elijah is still grey, still motionless.

"Eye contact. Now a lot of eye contact is polite, and then, it used to be the opposite, especially for women. So do both, and use one to emphasize the other."

"What?" I'm already frustrated. "What the hell does that mean?"

His eyes flash to mine for the first time since he removed the dagger. They are intense, and uneasy and surprisingly serious. He only holds my gaze for a second, but it isn't until he looks away that I realize I have stopped breathing.

"Right. Got that one," I say dryly.

It is appropriate that his eyes are such a dramatic color. When he looks at me, I feel the full force of that all-or-nothing personality like a blow.

"Have you ever noticed that eye thing Katherine does?"

"Hmm, the one where she looks like a catty bitch?" I say uncharitably.

His lips quirk. "Yeah, I know that one, too. No, I was talking about where she keeps her eyes at about half-mast, sort of intimate, but then she looks up at you through her eyelashes."

He demonstrates, and when Damon does it, it doesn't look the slightest bit feminine. His eyes are forceful, masculine, and I feel the muscles low in my belly squeeze and release in response. I glance away and cross my legs.

"Anyway, it's a good trick. Use that too. And say his name. Most of the time he's been alive, people used surnames, unless you had a very intimate relationship. I am willing to bet it still gives his geezer heart a thrill to hear a pretty girl say his first name," Damon says, propping his elbows on his knees, the tension in his shoulders so apparent that it looks like he is going to leap out of the chair any second and choke someone to death.

"You haven't made a single sarcastic comment this entire time," I say. He's making the air vibrate with stress and I think of the two of them, the mostly dead vampire might be the better company right now.

His lips curve into a sneer. "Isn't it enough of a joke that I'm giving _you_ lessons on etiquette?"

"You know you don't have to wait with me. You're not exactly Elijah's favorite person, anyway."

Damon gives me a look that makes it clear he doesn't regard this as an intelligent suggestion.

My heart goes out to him despite myself. Yes, this is his stupid plan, but he's so obviously suffering for it, and Bonnie was right. He's convinced himself that I can make Elijah fall in love with me just by being polite. It's nice that one of us has that much faith in my charms.

I reach out to touch his arm. "Damon-,"

Elijah chooses that moment to gasp awake, sitting up and looking around with wide eyes.

Damon gives him an insincere smile and holds out a glass of blood. "Drink?"

He rises and moves between Elijah and I, making it clear what the acceptable drinks in the room are.

"Katerina." Elijah blinks once or twice and then his composure begins to return. "Elena. I apologize."

He climbs out of the coffin with more grace than I could have managed. He looks back at it with a hint of distaste on his lips and then accepts the glass from Damon with the slightest bow of acknowledgement, though I notice his eyes are cold.

He takes a sip and veins flutter under his skin, so subtle that if I hadn't watched it on Damon's face I wouldn't be sure what it was. I can see the muscles in his throat contracting harshly, betraying how much he wants to gulp the blood, but he doesn't. There isn't so much as a drop smeared on his lips despite his thirst.

His eyes flick to the coffin again. "I presume this means I have my dear brother to thank for my most recent interment."

Damon nods and smiles tightly with half his mouth. "Yup. He daggered you pretty much as soon as you removed your hand from his chest. Quick karmic turnaround from stabbing Elena in the back."

His eyebrows pop in irritated emphasis and he shifts his weight to put even more of his body between Elijah and me, as if he's is unwilling to stop insulting the older vampire, but aware that it could end badly.

Elijah looks uncomfortable, and he turns to me. Caught off guard, I'm not sure if I'm supposed to tell him it's ok or go for the guilt trip. Fortunately, Damon's not done being provoking.

"If it's any consolation, he did reunite you with your family," Damon says with artificial cheer.

Elijah takes another very calm sip of blood. "Explain what you mean, please."

"He put you in a coffin and kept you all together in a nice family vault. Sponsored by Mack truck."

"Mack truck?" Elijah asks.

"A truck for moving large things. Like your family," Damon says conversationally. "Which Stefan and I stole. So don't even consider trying to bargain Elena to Klaus for your siblings." His eyes flare as he leans forward a way that is distinctly threatening. "Again."

It is fascinating to watch Damon when he's forced to interact with Originals without trying to kill them. It almost makes me feel sorry for him. He treats them with the same casual irreverence as he does everyone else, but the tight jerkiness of his movements gives away the fact that he's fully aware that they can kill him or anyone else in less than a second. He obviously hates being around anyone stronger than himself but I kind of love that he's still a jerk to them, even if it might get him killed one of these days. Or today, if I don't intervene.

I stand up, reminded that there's a reason I'm supposed to be the one getting Elijah on our side. "You must want to clean up after um, all of this. There's a spare bedroom upstairs, and I'm sure Damon could find some fresh clothes for you," I give Damon a look and he shrugs ill-temperedly.

Elijah nods to me. "That would be very nice. Thank you."

On our way out, Damon presses the second glass of blood on Elijah with the coldest of his false smiles.

"What I have is sufficient," Elijah says, looking faintly irritated.

"Iinsist," Damon informs him.

I take Elijah to a guest suite in Stefan's wing of the house and leave him with a fresh towel and a promise to drop off some clothes.

As I turn to leave, Elijah says, "Elena," but then stops and looks pained when I tilt my head inquiringly.

He bows his head slightly forward. "I am at a loss to express how deeply I regret breaking my word to you and your friends. I was very relieved to find that they had found a way to keep you alive and still human according to your wishes. I know your plans all rested upon me." He pauses. "My word is very important to me."

He's stuck again. It's kind of nice to know that even after hundreds of years of practice, you can still have trouble expressing yourself. Or maybe that's actually depressing.

"Elijah, I understand why you did that. It's hard to trump the power family can have over you." I can't watch him flounder anymore. Damon would probably want me to play up the guilt. I probably should, but I really do get it. I mean, if Klaus had Stefan and Damon and they were the kind of dead that could be revived, I'm sure I'd be his servant until I got them back. Stefan _was_ his servant, for exactly that reason. I hadn't thought before of how similar the situations really are.

"Nonetheless, the longer you live, the more disproportionately important some things become, as a natural corollary of the search for a meaningful existence. My word is one of the things that I fear I have become most rigidly attached to. I assume there must be some service you wish from me, since you and Mr. Salvatore were the ones to choose to wake me?"

"I think you can guess, unfortunately," I told him, feeling like a terrible person. "Klaus is wrecking everything, to say little of the fact that I'm practically his slave-,"

Elijah's eyebrows climbed at this statement and I realized he had no idea that doppleganger blood was necessary to create hybrids.

I waved my hand. "You should shower. There's a lot to catch up on, but I'm sorry. I wish it were something different. I wish it didn't have to be you, but yes, we desperately need Klaus dead."

"I understand. You may count upon my full cooperation as some payment toward the debt I owe you, with hopes that someday I might have redeemed my honor in your eyes."

I opened my mouth to say that I already forgave him, and then realized that Damon was almost certainly listening in from down the hall.

"Thank you, Elijah. That's admirable of you." I was trying for polite and not too casual but to my ear, I just sounded like a big fake.

I met Damon in his room. He was passive-aggressively not looking for clothes for Elijah to wear, so I went into the closet myself and he followed me in.

"Are you trying to piss Elijah off on purpose?" I ask him pointedly.

"What, because of the blood thing? We already went through this, _Elena_," he says, emphasizing my name in annoyance. He's flipping through hangers so fast that it is obvious he's not looking at all. I pick a shirt and he takes it from me.

"Not that one. It was expensive."

"I'm no Caroline, but I bet all these were expensive. It's about respect, remember?" I take the shirt back from him and he narrows his eyes at me.

"He's hungry as hell, Elena. Trust me. But a _gentleman," _he says mockingly, "doesn't give in to excess, especially in front of a lady. And a human, in this case. It's working. He's trying to impress you."

"Should we give him underwear?" I suddenly wonder. We stare at each other for a second, then my nose wrinkles and Damon's lip curls.

"Nope," I say as he shakes his head. I try to resist a laugh at the expression on his face.

"Watch for this one: if you sit down at a table, he'll try to pull out your chair for you. Back before condoms, anything closer than arm's length was suspect. Pushing in a girl's chair was a great ploy to get in close, maybe brush your hand against her shoulder." He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "It's the good ol' days equivalent of copping a feel. Bet he tries it."

He turns to leave the walk-in-closet and I stop him with a hand on his arm.

"Damon?"

He looks at me, a mocking expressing already in place.

"I'm going to be fine, Damon. Nothing's going to happen," I assure him and I don't know myself if I'm talking about the physical danger or something more personal.

"Of course it'll be fine," he scoffs. "It's my plan, remember?"

"Yes, it's your plan," I say, my gaze unwavering. I'm not buying his line and he knows it. "So I don't understand why you're trying to sabotage it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that if you wouldn't have just given me a lesson in manners, I would really believe you'd never heard of them," I say, letting go of his arm and waving my hand in frustration.

"When you danced with me at Miss Mystic Falls, it was pretty apparent that you actually do know how to play the game, Damon, so would it hurt you to try just a little? You did try to kill him. It would be smart for you two to make friends a little. Or at least not total enemies."

Damon sneers. "He tried to kidnap you. I'm not going to apologize for skewering him like a cocktail weinie. He had it coming and he knows it."

"So you can't even be polite?" I push.

"Elena, I was bad at that even when I was human. My father would be glad to tell you exactly how bad, if the old bag of bones was still around. There's no point! When everybody's playing the same game, you all know it's fake and everybody thinks what they were going to think about you anyway. So why play?" One corner of his mouth twists in ridicule. "I lost the energy to care about what other people think a looong time ago."

"Why don't you just say what you mean?" I say quietly, folding my arms. "You don't mean people in general. You mean your father and Katherine."

"Oh yeah, let's all cry about our daddy issues. That'll be fun. Can we sing Kumbaya, too?" He takes the shirt back, grabbing it in his fist instead of by the hanger, so it wrinkles. He takes a pair of slacks off the rail without even glancing at them. "Do me a favor. Let's skip Dr. Phil and focus on the actual plan. Which would be greatly improved by you not getting eaten by Elijah because you caught him with low blood sugar."

He heads down the hall with long strides.

I sigh. I can't even work up a good mad. Or even the energy to be particularly pleased that Damon apparently hates the plan almost as much as I do. Why does he have to make everything so difficult?

It takes another nearly ten minute argument to get Damon to let me to drive Elijah back to town, where he has a rented house.

Elijah came down in the middle of it and settled it by offering to drink another pint of blood and swear an oath to do me no harm. I can tell from the way he looks at Damon that he's insulted. It's not an ideal way to start an alliance but then there's a reason that Damon's plans are normally of the lone-wolf variety.

When we leave, I tell Elijah I forgot my keys and run back inside. Damon's already two inches of bourbon into drowning his anxiety over me.

"What did you forget? Your-, huh?"

Whatever bitter sarcasm he was going to toss at me is interrupted when I bear hug him from behind, catching his arms at his sides and squeezing hard.

We've got a lot of things to sort out, he and I, but no one could ever accuse him of not caring where I'm concerned.

"Thank you. For taking such good care of me. I know I don't make it easy."

I allow myself one more squeeze, resting my ear at the base of his neck, and then take off for the door without looking back before he ruins the moment.

When we arrive, Elijah opens the door to let me inside and I try not to crowd him as I pass. Whatever I told Damon, I'm not sure if three pints of blood is enough, either. I just think he probably has a good handle on his impulses.

The house is gorgeously, simply furnished. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but he was in town what, like a week before he got daggered?

We pass a room in the front hallway that at first I think is empty. I pause when I notice that it has a meditation cushion and a small, un-embellished gong.

"Surprised that a vampire would know anything about Buddhism?" Elijah asks mildly.

He's always so composed. He must have gotten the only even temperament in that family. Either that, or it's the Buddhism.

"Not surprised, really," I lie, then try to cover it up with a truth. "It does sort of suit you."

"Yes, but it is odd," he agrees. "There is no true veganism without starvation when you are a vampire. Therefore, Ahimsa is impossible." He looks uncomfortable, as if he has just admitted that he kicks puppies. Frequently.

I decided not to mention his father's decision to drink vampire blood. Instead I ask about the unfamiliar word he used. "Ahimsa?"

"Non-violence." He looks down slightly, and then raises his chin. "It is not a precept I have ever been strong enough to adhere to, though I do see its value. The meditation, however, is very helpful. For self-control, and many other things."

I consider pretending to understand, but my ears perk up at the word self-control. God knows Stefan could use some. "I'm sorry. I'm not very familiar with meditation. It is just sort of, sitting quietly without thoughts, right? How does that help with self-control?"

There is a small table in the corner of the kitchen carved of rich dark wood. Elijah pulls out a chair and offers it to me. I sit, hiding a smile.

"May I?" he asks, and when I nod, he tucks my chair back into the table with a movement that I suspect is harder to do gracefully than he makes it seem. His knuckles do not brush my shoulders.

"Part of one style of meditation involves watching yourself and your reactions. You do not judge them, do not grasp or push them away. You simply let them be and you do not follow them. They fade, and others take their place. It is a practice that eventually makes it easier for you to see what you are doing and choose, with detachment, whether or not you want to continue that behavior."

"Why would it be easier to control your behavior if you don't judge it?" I ask. "Wouldn't it be easier if you had some motivation to change your behavior?"

"Humans are passionate creatures, Miss-Elena," he corrects himself before calling me Miss Gilbert. I hide another smile. "As I'm sure you appreciate. Vampires are even more so. If you allow yourself to feel emotions about your behavior, you lend it power. Any feeling you have about it gives it more power over you. Think of the power a loved one has over you. To hurt you, to make you feel good. It is the same with your behavior. If you have no particular attachment to it, it is easier to be objective, which neither humans nor vampires are naturally," he finishes. "I hope that wasn't too pedantic. You seemed interested."

"I am." I smile and hope it is the right kind of smile. I haven't tried to seduce anyone in a long time, and never with someone like Elijah. In a way, it feels like trying to seduce my dad.

He tilts his head, studying me. "Sometimes, if you sit quietly enough, it feels like you're not sitting in silence at all. The silence…sings."

I don't know how to respond to that, although it sounds nice enough.

"Would you like an espresso? I have an espresso maker," he says hopefully.

Now I'm really smiling. "Of course. You like espresso?"

"I have lived in Italy. Many times." He stands to get the coffee. "And while I appreciate the variety of how each country interprets non-native foods, I do not appreciate how poorly Americans make coffee. Present company excluded, I'm sure," he says gallantly.

I relax into my chair. Maybe this isn't going to be that hard after all.

After an hour's pleasant conversation, I drive myself home. I filled him in on everything that had happened, and he agreed readily to help us, apologizing many times for going back on his word the first time.

There was a sketchy moment when I told him how it turned out my blood was needed to make hybrids. I explained that it was only because of a convenient spell and John's incredible sacrifice that I managed to die and be reborn still human, allowing Klaus to make hybrids.

Elijah looked at me very oddly and I realized it wasn't out of the question that he could want to kill or turn me, so that no other hybrids could be made. The look faded, though, and I had the feeling that it wasn't because Stefan was holding his family hostage. I hoped I was right.

He walked me out to my car when I left, bowing over my hand. I thought he might try to kiss my hand, and he did, but managed to miss and hit his own thumb, which I thought was hilarious. Somehow, I managed to keep from laughing until I was four blocks away, but it was a near thing.

When I get home, I can't resist texting Damon.

**Elena: When E left, he went to kiss my hand, and managed to kiss his own thumb instead. A ****clumsy Original? LOL**

**Damon: It's a compliment. Means you're classy. Everything go ok?**

A second later, another text comes in.

**Damon: That all he tried to kiss?**

**Elena: Why do you care?**

I look at the text for a long time and then I delete it letter by letter and type another one.

**Elena: Yes and Yes.**

I wait, but he doesn't respond.

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_Author's Note: Please leave a comment/review and let me know if you are enjoying the story, or if there are any parts you don't like. I love to hear from my readers!_


	12. Stefan the Good

_Author's Note: The soundtrack for this chapter (and for any Stefan chapter) is "Lovers Eyes" by Mumford and Sons. The lyrics are uncannily applicable, especially considering the comment Damon made in Chapter 1 about how Elena's eyes are a mirror that Stefan can't stand to look at himself in. I wrote that before hearing the song for the first time. I will copy a couple passages of the lyrics at the end of this chapter, for anyone who doesn't want to YouTube the song._

_ watch?v=xWNq89joPrI_

* * *

There's a soft knock at my front door. I'm in the middle of cleaning the kitchen, but I drop the paper towels and head over to see who it is. Almost no one knocks these days, not at my house.

I open the door and the air turns to blood in my throat. I feel the brass of the doorknob beneath my hand and wonder if I could crush it. It feels like I can. It feels like I will.

"Stefan."

When he left me on WIckery Bridge, I stuffed my fingers down my throat until I threw up his blood. It never occurred to me that I could do that when Damon forced his blood on me to save me from Klaus. But Stefan's blood these days is the product of dozens of murders, maybe hundreds.

He has his hands in his jacket pockets and his shoulders have their old tilt again, as if the weight of his life is so tiring that despite with his vampire strength he cannot straighten. I force myself to meet those treacherous green eyes.

My breath starts again without my permission when I see no trace of the delightedly feral in his eyes. As if that makes him any less dangerous to me.

Why did you come to the door? It's not like you need an invitation," I say bitterly.

"I do," he says, and it should be illegal for him to use that voice again, that soft and empathetic voice that had once lulled me into thinking his arms were safe.

I wanted this to happen. I wanted him to get better, to find himself again. Why is it that now that it might be happening, it feels unbearable?

"If you want to invite me back inside, that is your choice," he says, sounding like the Stefan who hiked me to the top of a waterfall so that I could tell him that I hated everything that he was, that I would give anything to not have to be what he was.

"I can't imagine why you would. I wouldn't blame you if you never did. But I won't come back in as if your invitation still applies to me when I know you issued it to someone else entirely."

In my memory, I can see tentative joy in his green eyes, the infatuated whirl of the first bit of our relationship.

"You're still on human blood, aren't you?" I asked him bluntly. I'm sure Damon could tell just by looking at him, but when Stefan looks so much like himself, I can't be sure.

He nodded, looking ashamed. "Bagged stuff for a few days now. I want to stop, but I can't allow myself to be weak until this thing with Klaus is over."

My doubt must show on my face, because his voice becomes more insistent.

"Listen, Elena. When I saw your face the other night on Wickery Bridge…even through the haze of human blood I couldn't stand to have you look at me that way. I will give up the blood, you know how much I want to, but I can't risk it with Klaus still in town. Especially with the way I've angered him. I made this mess, and I need to clean it up."

"You mean when I told you I kissed Damon," I said, with more hostility than I thought I had been harboring. "You didn't give a damn on Wickery Bridge."

"That's not true, Elena. What I did was wrong. So, so wrong, but please believe that as hard as it is for me to feel when I am on human blood, I _felt_ what I did to you."

"You could have done that anywhere, Stefan!" I'm shouting, angry as all hell, but this man will not have any more of my tears. I won't give him that. "If you wanted to freak me out me for Klaus's benefit, you could have pulled that stunt anywhere. Or, here's a thought, you could have _asked_ me to scream for you. As if I would refuse? But no, instead you chose the cruelest possible place on earth, the place that would turn what could have been just a scary moment into psychological torture. The only reason you knew how much that would hurt me is because I used to _love and trust you_ enough to tell you how I felt about it!"

It is a miracle that I'm not crying, but it is a relief to say these words, to finally blame him for something after all this. Maybe it wasn't his fault, all this, any more than a schizophrenic's hallucinations are his fault. Maybe. But Wickery Bridge was so deliberate that I couldn't let go of it.

"So if you're angry about me and Damon, go ahead. You have a right to be. But don't pretend about what is really important to you," I spit at him.

I'm not sure even in the heat of my anger that I mean this, but I'm so, so angry. At least while I'm angry I don't have to consider how to deal with both Stefans occupying his body at the same time instead of the more convenient one at a time that I'd _finally _started to be able to cope with.

Stefan's face is contorted with sorrow. "I was wrong about how I handled that, too. I don't have any right to tell you what to do with your life, obviously."

I told him on the phone that I loved him, that he could hang on to that. When had that changed? _Had_ it changed or was I just hurt?

"If Damon makes you happy, then you have every right to be with him. I would never stand in your way. I just know him and I worry that he'll hurt you, especially if he's afraid of losing you. He's never been all that stable, Elena. But he has taken better care of you than I have, so I can't object. I want you to be happy and safe more than I want anything."

_More than you want revenge on Klaus?_ I bite back the words. I have a right to be angry. I don't have a right to be cruel. He looks destroyed, but I can tell he means it. He really will step back if that is what I want.

This makes me remember that Damon is the reason Stefan is like this at all. He had gotten off human blood, and while I was kissing his brother and easing his death, _Stefan_ was saving him. He traded the thing he valued most in the world, his humanity, for his brother. I am sure he would have preferred to trade his life, but Klaus wasn't interested in that. He had already tried to trade it for me and Klaus refused.

I look back at him. He's the only one who has ever understood that I cared more about living up to my values than I cared about just surviving. That it wasn't worth it to me to live if I couldn't live with the things I'd done. Damon would never understand that.

I didn't know if Damon would have understood the full depth of Stefan's sacrifice on his behalf, either. And now Stefan was somehow, impossibly, willing to give more. Willing to give up any chance of reconciliation with me so that I could be happy.

Who was I to stand here and be righteous? I had seen how much it hurt Stefan when I told him I kissed Damon. How much more would it hurt him if he knew I'd made love to his brother? Especially since it never would have happened if Stefan hadn't been willing to give up everything to save Damon's life.

I'd never officially broken up with Stefan, never told him that I didn't want him anymore. I'd warned him he might lose me. Might. And then I slept with his brother.

How am I this person? I don't do things like this. Stefan could have walked away and never looked back dozens of times and yet he'd always come back for me. Because he loved me and he didn't even know how much I'd betrayed him.

I stepped back. "You can come in. If you want to."

His look of gratitude stings, and makes me realize something else. Something even worse.

I hadn't felt bad for sleeping with Damon. Not until this moment, right now, as wrong as it had been, did I ever start to feel guilty about it.

I lead Stefan to the kitchen, because I don't know what else to do. "Do you want anything to drink?" I flinch. "I can't believe I just said that. You know what I mean."

He smiles his sad smile. "I'm ok. Thank you."

I grab a bar stool and sit, awkwardly. "So what are you going to do, Stefan?"

"I don't know. Try to find a way out of this mess with Klaus without getting anybody killed. After that," he shifts uncomfortably. "I know a witch in Chicago who can do a speed-detox on me. Kind of like what Lexie did when her ghost came. So I can switch over to animal blood without wasting decades." He pauses. "Can you believe that I was so far gone that I didn't tell her how much I'd missed her?"

"She was kind of torturing you at the time," I say, aching for him.

"The thing is, Elena… I need you. I don't have any right to ask, any right to be a part of your life." He stops for a long, long moment. "But I- please don't think this is meant to make you feel guilty. I don't want that. You don't owe me anything."

"Just say it, Stefan," I urge. "You know I'll help you any way that I can."

"I_ don't_ deserve it. But I want your help, Elena. I need your help because I-," his voice breaks and his face crumples. "I can't think of any other reason why I _should_ come back. After what I've done, my life weighed against all the lives I've taken. I don't deserve to keep it. Without you, I don't even know why I would want it."

"Oh, Stefan." I wrap him in my arms, holding his head into the crook of my neck. His arms come around me hesitantly at first but when I don't pull away, he holds me hard against him, taking big, shuddering breaths. I know exactly where I fit against his body. I've taken and given comfort this way, with him, so many times, through so many things.

"I'll help you. However I can. You know that. But I need some time to sort through everything that has happened."

He pulls back and I see the hint of veins seething under the skin around his eyes. He's trying so hard.

"I should go. Be careful, Elena. I don't know what Klaus is going to do. I don't think he'll hurt you, but he might try to keep you close for a while to keep you away from me."

He stops just inside the door and turns back to me, reaching out as if he is going to trace my cheek, but then dropping his hand.

"Elena, if you need time… With Damon, to see what you want. You should take it," he says, haltingly but full of sincerity. "Even if you never want to be with me again, I am willing to wait as long as it takes to show you that you can trust me again."

"Stefan…" I have no idea what to say. I can't tell him there's nothing between Damon and I. It is so much more than nothing. I should tell him what happened. I am afraid that it might trigger the Ripper, but I know deep down that is just an excuse.

"I _was _right, though. You are better than both of us."

I watch him walk out to his car without saying anything.

The truth is that I don't want to tell him. Those moments with Damon were so private, so… I shouldn't use the word special for something that was wrong. But I don't want to share those memories with anyone, for any reason. They belong to Damon and me. They shouldn't ever be touched by anyone else.

I shiver involuntarily at the sight of Stefan's Porsche. I hate that car.

Actually, it is kind of weird that he wouldn't realize it would bother me to see his car after Wickery Bridge. It's not like he needs to drive here, with as fast as vampires run. I didn't know he owned a car until we'd been dating for months.

I stand in my door, feeling terrible. Guilty, unsettled. My mind drifts back to the grimace on Stefan's face when he talked about Lexie. It was just like a visit from a ghost, having the old Stefan here. I go still as a thought occurs to me.

When Lexie was trying to detox him, Stefan went through a period where he seemed to be totally lucid, telling me how much he loved me and begging for help. When I refused him though, he flipped just like a switch and screamed that he hated me. It was just the withdrawal.

There's no way all that today was an act, was it? For something to do with Klaus, or something else? I close the door and go to sit down, because I suddenly feel dizzy.

It seemed real, and I couldn't think of any reason for him to act like himself if he wasn't. But I couldn't shake the idea once it was in my head. Stefan had never acted exactly the same when he was on human blood. Even when he had just a little bit that first time I saw him go off the wagon, he was different. He was looser, more spontaneous, funnier. And totally in denial about his addiction.

I'm sitting in a beam of sunlight, but my hands are ice cold.

* * *

Long Author's Note, feel free to skip if you aren't interested:

Writing Stefan and Elena is so hard! I feel like I do want to do justice to the difficulty of the emotions she is facing and the complexity of the situation. The setup at the end of Season 2 was really devious and interesting and I'd like to be able to convey some of the weight of that on all the characters. She loves them both and it would suck to be in that position. At the same time, it is so hard because I just want her to be with Damon, who she so obviously has MORE feelings for. I mean, come on, in three seasons have Elena and Stefan had a kiss like the one in Denver? Nope. Never have, never will.

Thanks so much for all your support and giving me a way to justify spending tons of time writing on something I can never hope to publish and profit from. You guys are the best!

Selection from the amazing (and amazingly applicable) lyrics of Mumford and Sons below:

_Love was kind_

_For a time_

_But now just stings and it makes me blind_

_This mirror holds_

_My eyes too bright_

_I can't see the others in my life_

_Do not ask the price I pay_

_I must live with my quiet rage_

_Tame the ghosts in my head_

_They run wild and wish me dead_

_Should you shake my ash to the wind_

_God forget all of my sins_

_Or let me die_

_Where I lie_

_Beneath the curse of my lover's eyes._

_For there's no drink, or drug I've tried_

_To rid me of the curse of these lover's eyes_

_Your strength just makes me feel less strong_

_I walk slow_

_Take my hand_

_Help me on my way_

I think this song pretty much nails Stefan's problem. I also love where it says "God forget all of my sins." As if forgiveness could never be enough.


	13. Blood Drive

_A/N Sorry about the formatting on the scene break in the middle. Doc Manager wouldn't let me do anything I wanted to do to make it more clear._

* * *

I text Damon with trembling fingers, back spacing many times.

** Elena: What is your brother's new game?**

My phone rings approximately three seconds later and Damon says conversationally, "Hey. Where are you?"

"Home, why?"

"You alone?"

"Yes. Stefan just left."

Only now does strain creep into his voice. "Are you hurt?"

Halfway through the sentence, my front door blows open and he comes through like a force of nature. He drops the phone, not even bothering to disconnect.

His eyes go over me like hands and then his actual hands are on either side of my face, holding me like I'm something very breakable, or very valuable. He looks into me like he can see everything that happened.

"Elena. What did he do?" His voice is flat, but there is chaos and wreckage and vengeance behind it.

"Nothing, Damon. He just came to talk. He didn't threaten me," I say quickly.

He drops his hands and takes a step back but his lean body is a taut bowstring that is ready to speed death into the world.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out," I say shakily. "I just-,"

"Here, sit down," he says with a gentleness that sounds totally manufactured, as brittle as very cold glass.

His hand spans my lower back and he guides me back to the couch.

I huff out a breath and try to smile at him. "I shouldn't have called you. I needed a minute, I think, to not be- to be-, um."

He's watching me closely and beneath the dark violence in his eyes, I see fear.

I take another breath and try this again. I didn't mean for this to be a big deal. Why did I call Damon? This can only hurt him, maybe push him into one of his emotion-driven binges, and this town can't survive two Salvatores on a tear.

"He came to ask for my help. To get off the blood. The human blood, I mean. He said a lot of things." I raise my eyes to his brother. "Stefan said all the right things. He was- he was just like himself. Even his voice. You know, how his voice is different now?"

Damon nods with the barest hint of movement. His black hair is windblown disarray that looks salon perfect on him.

"Stefan's voice was back to normal. He seemed just like himself again. So much like himself that I-,"

"Couldn't believe in it?" Damon asks.

I nod, hoping he'll tell me that it's all a lie. I don't know if I can handle it if it's true.

It is almost more terrible, that _my_ Stefan could have been inside that monster, could have _been_ that monster all along. I know, intellectually, that he was that way before I met him and went back to being good, but seeing it in action is far more terrifying.

"I got a strange text from him, right before yours came in. What did he say when he was here?" Damon asks, as if he thinks there is more that I don't want to tell him.

"Just what I said before. He wanted help to get off the blood, said he needed a reason to live, someone to believe in him. He said if I would ever let him, he'd try again-," I falter, "with us. And that if I didn't, he would support me if you and I- if we-," I just stop. I can't finish a sentence. I'm a mess. I should have called Bonnie, not Damon. I'll be lucky if this isn't the start of the second Civil War.

"What did you tell him?" That is not Damon's voice. Damon is wild and unpredictable, not controlled like this, not brittle like this.

"I said I needed time. To think. What did the text say? Because I just wondered if maybe this was some new way to use me against Klaus. If you knew if he had some kind of plan."

Damon stands up. "No, Elena. Not that I would put it past him right now, but no. I would bet that this is the same old game the three of us usually play. The only thing that's changed is that St. Stefan is less concerned with rules than he used to be, and I am no longer in the mood for games."

He walks to the still-open door, his boots ringing heavy and final on the floor. I see him pick up his phone and hit the "end" button.

What is he talking about? What rules? But I don't have time to think about that if I want to keep him from leaving with the wrong idea.

"Damon, wait." I go after him.

"Don't take it like that. I didn't call you to say Stefan and I were back together or to hurt you or to make you angry with Stefan. I was just confused and I wanted-," I stop because the line of his shoulders is screaming rage and danger at me and he still hasn't turned around.

"Why are you so angry with me?" I ask him finally.

He turns around and the blast of his eyes physically pushes me back a step.

I don't know how I ever forget. Damon is not a tame vampire.

Even if he were a human, he would not be boring, predictable, or truly safe.

His face is etched in lines of incredulity and he does not speak to me. He turns and walks out at human speed. He walks all the way down the street and turns the corner and I watch every step he takes away from me.

* * *

"Have you given blood before?"

"Yeah. Once," the kid mumbles, sneaking a look at Bonnie's chest.

"Great. Just go ahead and read the informational booklet, and then come back here and we'll give you the forms to sign," Bonnie says with a practiced smile.

"Bonnie?" I ask once the student goes to sit down. He's in Jeremy's grade. I think I used to know his name, but I can't remember it now.

"Mmmhmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Is it about the irony of _us _running a blood drive?"

"No," I smile. "_That _makes perfect sense. Caroline can't do it this year like she usually does, and let's just say I feel a little personally responsible for the local shortage."

"Are you going to donate?"

"I did earlier."

She raises an eyebrow at me, and we pause while I direct a girl to the free juice and cookies.

"It just seems weird to give your blood away for free when there's been so much fighting over it."

"Don't remind me," I say, busying myself with arranging paperwork we are supposed to keep straight for the phlebotomists.

"Have you talked to Jeremy?" Bonnie asks with transparent casualness.

"Wow, that psychic thing really does work. I was just going to ask you the same thing."

"Yeah, well. Have you?"

"Sure, yesterday. He's chipper as always. It's weird. I probably shouldn't say this to you, but every time I have Damon compel him, he gets a little happier, more clean-cut."

"Maybe Damon's throwing in a little extra message and not telling you," Bonnie says with a touch of malice. I give her a look to let her know I didn't miss the change in her tone.

"Maybe having the weight of all this drama off his shoulders actually lets Jeremy be a normal teenager. I feel like he's not missing much not being in Mystic Falls." I shoot her a quick, guilty look. "Except for his relationship with you."

"Yeah, and that was going so well. We were barely speaking."

"Still. I hope the timing isn't the only thing…" I cut myself off. There's no point in going over this again.

"I guess there are just too many what ifs," I say wistfully. I used to harbor fond hopes of Bonnie marrying Jeremy and being part of the family. Many years down the road, of course.

"How are things with Elijah?" she asks and I let her change the subject because no matter how many times I apologize, I can't give her Jeremy back. I won't.

"Good," I say. "Surprisingly, really good."

Bonnie raises an eyebrow. "The Elena I know would have a hard time with forced seduction."

"All I actually do is hang out with him. He's turning out to be easy company, although he makes me want to sit up straight and be polite. He got a new haircut that looks nice. And he took me to the movies the other night."

"What kind of movie do you take someone his age to?" Bonnie asks with amusement.

"An action movie. You should have seen it, Bonnie. He gets this look on his face of just pure delight about certain things. Espresso, movies, really bizarre poetry. He hated the cursing in the action movie, and despised popcorn. Oh, you'll love this, though. He said, and I quote, 'I like how they make not real things look so real.'"

Bonnie grins. "That's adorable."

"I know. How can he possibly be related to Klaus?"

Bonnie shrugs. "Yeah, that's kind of what worries me." She narrows her eyes. "You're not getting a thing for him, are you?"

"No way. My love life needs a vacation from itself. It's weird, though. He's supposed to be part of our master plan, but I feel like spending time with him is actually a break from the soap opera that is my life."

I sigh. "Speaking of my horrible anti-love life, Damon's not talking to me."

Bonnie rolls her eyes. "Yeah, like that ever lasts. Call him right now and just say his name in a quavery voice. That's all you have to do and you'll be speaking again," she smiles. "_That _spell was free."

"That's right, you and I really haven't gotten a chance to talk." I glance around. This isn't the place, but… "Stefan came to see me. He was just like he used to be. Before, you know."

"Is he, um, clean?"

"No."

Bonnie glances around the room. There was one only student waiting still, that boy, but he's watching us. He looks away blushing when Bonnie catches him at it.

"So what does that mean? He's been," she waves her hand to indicate the whole mess. "And now he's fine. Without, um, making any changes in his habits?"

"I guess. Anyway, he came over and we talked, and then I called Damon and-,"

Bonnie interrupts. "Stefan is back to normal and your first reaction was to call _Damon?_"

"He's not exactly normal, Bonnie. But yeah, and so I tell Damon that we talked and then he wigs and takes off." I sigh. "I swear, my whole life lately is Damon taking off on me and Stefan being, I don't know. Unpredictable covers it, I guess."

"Seems like your whole life is Damon showing up, not taking off," Bonnie disagrees. "Though I'm not totally sure that's a good thing."

"Well, it's better than wondering if Stefan is going to kill me, use me for a bargaining chip, or beg for my forgiveness and everlasting love," I say carelessly.

"You know what's funny about that?"

"Almost nothing," I say, trying not to glare.

The guy comes back with the informational booklet I'm certain he didn't read and I give him waivers and usher him into the blood draw room. I don't bother to fake a smile, it'll just make him want try to steal a look down my shirt. I wonder if drinking teenage blood makes vampires more hormonal. What a horrible thought.

"You sounded exactly like Damon when you said that," Bonnie says.

"Maybe I'm channeling him. If so, could you please use your magic to ask him _what in the hell_ he's thinking?"

"He's Damon, Elena. That means he's probably thinking about you, hookers, and bourbon. In that order. Without seeing any kind of conflict."

Now I _do_ glare at her. "Wow, I guess I'm not the only one grouchy from lack of sleep today. Hookers, Bonnie, really? In what world does a guy who looks like Damon have to pay for sex?"

"Ok, that was kind of bitchy. But you guys did-," Bonnie cuts herself off, looking warily around even though the room is technically empty. "You know. Together. And then he doesn't call at all, except for the master plan stuff? I know what kind of guys do that. The kind of guys who are using you for sex."

"Yeah, except he's not being blasé in an I'm-done-with-you way. He's doing it in an I'm-mad-at-you-but-still-care-enough-to-protect-you-from-vampires-including-my-brother way."

"I guess," Bonnie says dubiously.

Then she relents. "Actually, maybe, yeah. The way he was looking at you the other night…if he's using you for sex, he's not done yet." She stops. "Dammit, Elena!"

"What?" I ask defensively.

"Why did you tell me that story about him singing to you?"

"Is this a trick question?" I'm too tired to overanalyze, so I just spit out the truth.

"I told you because you are my best friend, and I wanted to talk about it because it was like the sweetest thing anybody's done for me in a long time. Also," I give up on not overanalyzing. I lasted like four seconds. "It _is_ Damon, and I know you can appreciate that, yeah, singing? It was a little surprising."

I slump back in my chair, sighing. "His voice is unbelievable."

"Not that you're biased," Bonnie deadpans. "No, but ever since you told me that story, every time I look at him, I kinda wonder."

"Wonder what?"

"If you are right about him, or just blinded by those abs."

I sigh again. "Tell me about it."

"Let's test him."

I eye her warily.

"Text him."

"Oh, right. It's just that easy to figure out what a guy is really thinking," I say sarcastically. I pull out my phone and type a mocking text to Damon. I shove the phone carelessly across the table so Bonnie can appreciate the joke. Wouldn't it be a great world if you could just _ask _a guy how they felt about you, and they would just tell you the truth?

**Elena: Would you be speaking to me if I was naked?**

Bonnie hits Send.

My jaw hits the floor.

"You. Did. Not." I snatch my phone back protectively, and then drop my face into my hands. "Seriously?"

"Elena." Her voice has changed tone entirely. That's her serious adult/witch voice.

I stop rubbing my eyes and look at Bonnie, who is not looking at me. I follow her gaze.

Stefan is standing in the doorway.

* * *

For anyone that is interested, I re-wrote the first chapter of this story and added about a page and a half, (changes posted 10/7/12), because I have spent so much time on this story now that I thought I should work a little harder on its grand entrance.

Thanks to kat , whose feedback resulted in a subtle but important change to this chapter! Plays out a bit more in later chapters, too. Thanks to everyone who has been reading, and please feel free to leave any feedback, positive or negative, in the reviews section. I'm in this to entertain, but also to improve as a writer. Hope you're all enjoying the ride as much as I am!


	14. Picture the Worst

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Vampire Diaries or any of its characters, dialogue or plot. Warnings for explicit violence and adult language._

* * *

**DAMON POV**

I'm in a council meeting, again. Drinking weak tea, again.

As per usual, I'd be tearing my hair out over how boring these people are if I didn't find it highly entertaining to watch their reactions while I play them like a string quartet. Also, the irony of a vampire keeping the town safe from other vampires never gets old. What can I say? I need a hobby.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I slide it out just enough to see the screen. My eyes widen. "I have to take this," I announce. "Excuse me."

I stride into the hall and stare at the little electronic screen. Is she booty calling me?

**Elena: Would you be speaking to me if I was naked?**

What in the seven hells is _that _supposed to mean? I shoot back the most obvious response, messing with her. I should drop it and go back to letting the mayor find me some bad, bad vamps to kill. Instead, I just stand in the hallway staring at Elena's words. The phrasing is odd. It takes me a minute or two to realize that she's interpreted my behavior over the last two days as deliberately giving her the silent treatment.

Never mind that I am too short-tempered to bother with anything as unsatisfying as the silent treatment. The real question is whether this an invitation to see her naked in exchange for ending said silent treatment?

That seems like exactly what the text is implying, and if it was someone else, I'd already be in the car. Since it is Elena? No way in hell. She would get around to asking me for sex in a text message about four _years_ after we started officially dating.

But she is, after all, a woman, and so this sounds maybe more like an accusation. Like a why-didn't-you-call or are-you-using-me-for-my-body kind of thing.

I hate it when girls pull that. I mean, if I didn't say it _wasn't_ just sex for fun, then obviously…

Of course, Elena being angry with me after we slept together when _she_ was the one that didn't call is just a whole other level of fucked up. Not to mention I've spoken to her plenty since then. Just not since my brother came back with his wounded-golden-boy ploy.

I shake my head in irritation and turn to go back into the council meeting. Until I remember that it is pretty much a room full of women, too.

Screw this. I'm so not in the mood to play tea party.

I turn on my heel and head for the front door with long strides that hover just on the edge of inhuman speed.

Just then, another text comes in from Elena. I stare at it until the letters start to wiggle.

Is she trying to make my head explode? I toss the ball right back into her court and consider leaving the phone in the planter by the porch steps. Somehow, it ends up back in my pocket instead.

If she gets into trouble, I can't be between phones and unreachable, however much I want to be. Stefan is off bodyguard duty, and Elijah hasn't signed his hire paperwork yet. I am the only shift there is.

I still regret keeping the phone though, because I am sick to death of taunting little text messages. The one I'd gotten from my brother a couple days ago is still burning a hole in my brain.

Stefan must have barely closed Elena's door behind him before he was busily text-gloating at me. Fuck, he should have gone the whole nine yards and just peed a circle around her house while he was in the mood.

It's not new. Stefan and I wrestled for a long time over Katherine, and then over her memory. With Elena it's deadly serious, but it's also pretty fun. Like the time I got to taunt Stefan about kissing her. But then other times it's just dick-ish, like when he told me I'd never have her respect.

It blows me away how she can catalog my faults like a librarian but is totally blind to the fact that Stefan wasn't a choir boy even before he blew his latest bunny diet.

Sure, when he stays away from the human stuff, Stefan cares a whole lot more about being a good person than I ever will. But that doesn't make him Christ's cousin, like Elena seems to think. He's still jealous, obsessive and brilliantly manipulative. Not the perfect recipe for a boyfriend, even in my admittedly inexpert opinion.

The words of his last jab at me are burned into my painfully detail-oriented vampire memory:

**Stefan: Take your hero haircut and shove it. You'll never be able to talk her into bed now, because I know her better than you ever will. Game on, brother.**

The hero haircut line is actually a clever turnaround of something I'd taunted him with once, a joke about how I was going to get in touch with my feelings and take his place with his girl. He'd used it a few times lately to ridicule the fact that I'd gotten close to Elena by repeatedly saving her life. As a deliberate seduction strategy, it sucks, but since somebody tries to kill her twice a week, it is working out fine for me.

Still, the fact that Stefan is taking the danger to Elena lightly enough to make jokes about my savior role makes me see nothing but how red his blood would be sprayed across the ground.

And it's bizarre that maybe two minutes after he said "Game on," Elena texted me to ask what his game _was._ She might have better intuition than I give her credit for. Though probably not the cynicism to act on her feelings.

The irony is that I can't tell her that his game is that he's using his addiction to manipulate her. Because she won't believe me. She will think _I _am lying about Stefan to manipulate her. There is enough truth in what he tells her that I'll never be able to use it against him.

And _that _is why I haven't called her since Stefan went over there to beg her to be his "reason for living" or some other pansy, trumped-up bullshit. I am furious that I can't just tell her the truth about what he is doing because she won't trust me over him.

That is also why I know Stefan is going to win in the end. I am about 12 times better at seducing women, but he always gets the ones that matter. There have only been two, but it still makes me feel worlds behind on the scorecard.

I always blow it despite the fact that I can plan and execute a picture-perfect seduction. I just figure out what will affect a girl in a certain way, and I do it. It works great until it is actually important.

Love makes Stefan smart. It sharpens his empathetic aptitude for manipulation. It makes me spectacularly, passionately stupid.

Stefan will swoop in with precisely calibrated plans and a broody little forehead to make him seem sincere and he'll be getting in her panties while I am stomping out the door, mad because she doesn't trust me.

If I want her to trust me, I should be acting like I am vulnerable and in need of love. In need of _her_ to heal me. Just like Stefan.

I get in my car and let the tires scream on my way out of the circular driveway. I've been nothing but honest with Elena. If she wants me, she knows where to find me. If she wants to play games, Stefan's got the board all laid out for her and she's fucking welcome to it.

* * *

**ELENA POV**

* * *

I hurry over to the doorway, and grab Stefan's arm, dragging him into the hall.

"Do you know what this is, Stefan? It's a _blood drive. _You can't _be _here, are you totally insane?"

As I'm dragging him, I realize that I haven't taken a good look at him and chances are better than 50/50 that he _is _totally insane.

I snatch my hand back. Bonnie hasn't followed me into the hallway, and I wonder if she will hear if I scream. Probably. We haven't gone that far. I brace myself and turn to Stefan.

He doesn't look good, but he's not smiling. With Stefan, that's a good sign.

My phone chimes from my pocket. Damon?

"I needed to see you, Elena."

"At a _blood drive?_" I hiss. "Really? You couldn't call?"

He looks confused. "I didn't think of that."

Um, what?

I really, really want to check my phone. I know that is not what I should be doing while having a conversation with an addict at a collection center for their drug of choice, but I am dying to see what Damon is going to say to that text.

"When was the last time you fed?"

"Today," he says. He's pale and his eyes are bouncing around the room like a crack head's. They keep going back to the small Band-Aid over the needle mark where the Red Cross took my blood.

Ok, he sort of looks like he's lying. He shouldn't be like this if he's already fed. Does Stefan need more blood than most people? Because it doesn't seem like Damon goes through that many blood bags.

I slide my phone out of my pocket an inch and do a fast glance at it.

**Damon: Nope.**

Ouch. He must be really pissed, because he's basically saying he wouldn't talk to me no matter what. I need to call him. Right after I sort his brother out.

I face Stefan. "You don't look like you've fed today."

He looks at me, appears to realize that is a mistake, and looks away. "No, I did. I just thought I could maybe try to see if I could just go straight over, without the witch."

My phone chimes again.

"Ok, well I think that might have been hasty, but the really terrible idea is you coming here," I tell him in a low voice. "So why don't you head home, maybe have one blood bag, and try to slowly wean yourself onto the animal thing?"

I pause and check my phone, because I am weak.

**Damon: You're a smart girl, Elena. I think you can figure out what I would be doing.**

Wow, okay. He's not blowing me off. He's flirting with me. Is that a good sign or a bad sign right now? Or is that just Damon being Damon?

Stefan sees me. "Who is texting you?" He reaches for my phone. I snatch it back.

"Caroline. She's upset about Tyler again."

Stefan's eyes narrow. "You're a bad liar."

The light creeps into his eyes again. The light of possibilities, all of them bad.

I shove my phone in my back pocket and take a step toward him. "Stefan. This was a bad idea. It doesn't matter who I'm texting. The reason you care about that is because you are hungry. You need to get out of here, to someplace quiet where you can focus on what you actually care about, which is getting yourself back."

Stefan's face falls and he turns away from me a little.

My phone chimes.

Just like that, the light is back, and he's looking at my back pocket. He can snatch it, and he is too fast for me to stop him. And if he sees the text Bonnie sent, heads will roll. Literally.

I have a vervain syringe, in my purse. It is under the table in the next room. Bonnie can knock him out if he gets dangerous, but is she even listening to our conversation? Why isn't she out here? She has to know how precarious his control is.

"Stefan," I say urgently. "Look at me. You're acting paranoid. That's a normal withdrawal reaction."

"I'm not having withdrawals," he says. "I fed. I'm fine. I just wanted to see you."

"Nope, not fine," I tell him. "Actually you're kind of freaking me out. You need to go back somewhere quiet and away from um, other people. And did you not notice that Klaus is sort of on the warpath for you? You should be in hiding."

His eyes are bobbing between me and the door behind me, to where they are drawing blood. I bet he can smell it from out here. I step in front of him. "If you want me to help you, you have to trust me."

I put a hand on his chest. That gets his attention.

Stefan nods. He looks confused, and not himself.

"Go."

"I'll call you later," he says, and blurs down the hall. He shouldn't be doing that in public, but I'm not going to complain. I pull my phone out of my pocket.

**Klaus: Call me.**

Not what I was hoping for. I ignore Klaus.

I re-open the text from Damon and try to decide what to say. Should I keep up the flirting? Should I tell him Bonnie sent it? What do I actually want?

I want him to talk to me. I open a new message, and type just a few words.

**Elena: I miss you. **

It's the truth.

I go back into the blood drive, and find Bonnie standing just inside the door.

"I was wondering where you were."

"I've got your back. Don't worry. What's up? Stefan sounds not exactly as good as you made him out to be."

"He said he tried to do the detox on his own, cold turkey. It's a good sign that I could get him to leave, though."

I show her my phone, with the texts from Damon and Klaus. As I'm holding it up, a new text comes in.

**Damon: What are you going to do about it?**

"Well, he's pretty good at text flirting," Bonnie says. "But I'm not sure you're going to get any answers out of him that way. What are you going to say back?"

"Um, I don't know."

She looks at me.

"No, really, that's what I'm going to say," I tell her. I'm sort of out of ideas.

Bonnie rolls her eyes. "Since Caroline isn't here, I'm going to help you out. Try this instead." She takes my phone and taps out a message, then holds it up for my approval.

**Elena: What do YOU want me to do about it?**

"That would be great if I wanted him to ask me to the dance, Bonnie, but I have no friggin' idea what I want him to do."

"No," she says. "But this might be a good way to find out what he's thinking, since he's been all weird lately." She hits Send.

"Bonnie!" I snatch back my phone and stick it in my pocket. "You are the one acting weird today. Why are you helping me flirt with Damon?" I glance around, wishing I would have lowered my voice.

"I'm not. I am trying to get him to give you a glimpse of his true colors. Shouldn't you call Klaus?"

"Why on earth would I want to add a pompous immortal to this day?"

"How often does he call you?"

"About as often as he tries to ruin my life, so pretty frequently."

She's got me worried, though, so I dial him. He answers on the first ring, sounding smarmy, arrogant and fake. As usual. He sounds fake-sad though, not fake-pleasant. Hmmm.

"Elena, my dear. We need to talk. Are you sitting down?"

I roll my eyes. "I think I can take whatever you have to say standing up by this point, Klaus. What do you want?"

Bonnie mouths "Cranky, much?" at me.

"I want my family back, and for people to leave my precious doppleganger intact. Alas, that is not the way events are heading." He sighs heavily. "I wanted you to hear this from me, first."

I'm sure whatever it is, I never want to hear it.

"I threatened to kill your younger brother, Jeremy, since the car wreck didn't work out." He says this politely, as if it wouldn't be reason enough for me to cram a shotgun in his mouth, if I could get away with it.

"Since you're off the table, you have to appreciate how hard it is for me to threaten Stefan into giving me my coffins back. I'd like to use Stefan's brother, poetic justice and all, but I have a fairly regrettable oath that is keeping me from doing so. In any case, I tried Caroline with little reaction, so I thought I would try Jeremy again. Unfortunately, Stefan is perhaps not at his best lately and he called my bluff."

I'm so annoyed at his supercilious manner that it takes a minute for the words to penetrate.

"How did he call your bluff?"

"I'm truly sorry, my dear," he says regretfully. "I wanted you to know it wasn't me. I was just threatening, after all. He killed Jeremy to prove the point. He sent me an unfortunate photograph. I've forwarded it to your phone. I want you to know that I'll do anything I can to help you in your time of grief. I would be more than pleased to kill Stefan, if that would console you."

A jolt goes through me, a very distinct wave of electrical shock as every part of my nervous system discharges at once. I hunch forward, my body going from totally healthy to broken in less than a second. I'm sick, dizzy, in pain. I'm going to throw up, wet myself, cry, faint. The electrical shock must have done something to my ears because the sound fades out like someone tuned down a volume knob.

I feel terrible, but disconnected. I don't know if I'm standing or sitting, if I've collapsed upon the floor. I don't know what happened to my phone, but I don't care because it is ruined now. It contains six pictures of my brother. In five of them, he is alive. In one, he's dead.

* * *

_Author's Note: Please drop me a comment and let me know what you think about the direction the story is headed and whether or not you are enjoying it. _


	15. Smoke Without Mirrors

_Author's Note: These characters are not mine, nor is the universe. Sorry for the short chapter today, folks. Lots of action tomorrow to make up for it! And for those of you who have been asking, there is also plenty of Delena coming. I have been holding back for the sake of injecting some plot into my fluff, but most of the last quarter of this story is nothing but Delena delightfulness. Oh, with a little ass-kicking. Because I can never resist that._

* * *

I come back to myself with a gasp, holding my cheek.

I look up at Bonnie. She just slapped me but I can only work up the vaguest interest in why.

"There's something wrong," she says, and I tune her out. _No shit._

My phone chimes and I flinch. Is that the picture? Is the picture already in there? Is there a sext from Damon overlaying the picture of my dead brother?

"Listen to me. Something isn't right. There's a picture of Jeremy, decapitated, on your phone. But he's ok."

"He's ok?"

"Yes, I can feel him. He's fine," Bonnie says.

I tune out again. I don't believe enough in her powers to believe that. She shouldn't be talking so loud. We're in public.

Stefan. Stefan was just here. I should do something about that. I should stop him. He's a murderer. Don't they know he's a murderer?

"Bonnie, Stefan was just here. Klaus said Stefan killed Jeremy," I say, and then I fade out again, because I know Bonnie loves Jeremy and if I am very lucky she will go and capture Stefan and I won't have to move.

Unfortunately, this time my eyesight won't turn off and I am stuck, just staring at the industrial carpet that I'm sort of in a heap on top of, and I realize that slouching on the floor isn't going to bring Jeremy back, or take away my pain.

I stand up and take my phone from Bonnie. I want to be in as much pain as possible. If my brother died because of me, I deserve as much pain as there is in the world. The picture shows him on the floor, with his head lying next to him. I study my brother's face, which is strangely undistorted by the decapitation.

Bonnie is shaking her head at the picture.

"It's not real." She's in denial.

She starts zooming in on the picture, scanning it around on the screen of my phone. A text comes in from Damon. She clicks Ignore and goes back to scanning the picture. She has got some really good denial, to be this interested in a picture of her dead boyfriend.

"That's it," Bonnie says and she shoves the phone in my face, pointing to where the photo is zoomed into. "Look, the shadow on his head doesn't match the direction of the shadow on his body. And there is no distortion of the face from gravity. This is photoshopped. Look at the bicep of the corpse."

I look. There is a tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve of the shirt.

I sit back down on the floor and start hyperventilating in these huge sobs of air. Bonnie crouches down and hugs me.

"He's ok, Elena. Jeremy's not dead, he's fine."

She's dialing the phone but hangs up after a minute, searching through my contacts. Finally she chooses one and waits. "Yes, is Jeremy available please? Thank you."

She shoves the phone at me and his voice is coming out of it. "Hello? Elena? What's up? Hey, have you seen my leather bracelet that had all those rivets in it? I can't find it since I moved and I'm wondering if it is in my room there, somewhere."

I hold my breath until I'm fairly sure I have a voice again, and then speak only a little too shrilly. "Jeremy? I haven't seen your bracelet. Is everything good there?"

"Yeah, though somebody stole my phone today. Right out of my backpack."

"Huh. We'll get you a new one," I say.

"You sound weird. Is everything ok?"

"Yeah. Everything's good. I can't remember the thing I was going to ask you. Can I call later?"

"Sure, just call the house phone. Love you."

"I love you too, Jer. Take care."

I look at Bonnie and she looks at me.

I pick up my phone and delete the picture of Jeremy. If I put gasoline on it, would the phone burn?

The text from Damon comes up.

**Damon: If you want to play games, I'd prefer you played them with my naked body instead of my head.**

Ouch. I need to fix things with him, but not now. I need a minute.

I spend about a half an hour with Bonnie in the hall, drinking juice and cursing like a sailor, which I never do but my eyes don't seem to be interested in crying and I need to do something to expel all this energy. After that, my body finally gets the clue that everything is fine.

"I should probably go," I tell Bonnie. "I'm going to raid the supplies."

Her eyes widen. "Isn't that a federal offense or something?"

"Better than the alternative. And I helped with the filing earlier, so I can make a whole case and the paperwork disappear if you distract the supervisor for five minutes."

"I guess I can do that," she agrees reluctantly. "Elena, there's one thing I've been meaning to mention to you."

"Yeah?"

"Do you know what Damon Salvatore means?"

I shake my head, kind of impatient to go.

"Demon. And Savior," she says.

I pause, looking at her.

"Be careful," she says, her eyes serious.

* * *

I carry my case of blood out, feeling pleasantly grounded by the weight, the reality of the box.

What Bonnie said about Damon's name is nibbling at the edges of my thoughts. I wonder why when she said it, it sounded like a warning. It is sort of a perfect name for him. Darkness and light all wrapped up together until most of the time you have no idea what side will win.

I should have more important things to think about, but that text from Damon is really bugging me. He is pissed at me, and now he says I'm playing games, but it looks to me like he's the one playing games, which tells me we just need to actually talk. Unfortunately, having a real talk with someone that you had sex with usually means defining your relationship.

I have no idea how I want to define our relationship, and I'm more afraid of asking Damon what he wants than I should be. I used to think I knew what he'd say but lately it's fuzzier. Especially since I have no idea where Stefan and I stand.

Actually, the whole thing exhausts me. I know two things: I don't want to hurt anyone, and I just want to see Damon. Even if we only watch a movie and he makes fun of every second of it, that would make me feel better right now.

Is there any way to put all that in a text in a way that won't backfire on me? I put the box in the SUV and give it a try.

**Elena: I'm not trying to play any games, I swear. I just miss you. I feel like we've got our lines **

**crossed somehow. Do you want to come over tonight, maybe just hang and watch a movie? **

There. That was simple. That couldn't get me in trouble somehow, could it? We needed to step up our timeline for the Klaus plan, but if I brought that up now it would be all we talked about and it would be great to have a night without that. I feel like Klaus has taken enough from me today with his little stunt to get me to help him find Stefan.

**Damon: Ok. Call me later.**

** Damon: Movie with more realistic fighting this time. Or more realistic sex. I'd take either.**

I grinned at my phone. See? Communication. It could actually work.

I drive home, and despite feeling a little mentally ill for wanting to smile after the day I've had, I am really starting to feel better.

I helped Stefan, or must have since he was able to leave a blood drive, and I maybe got my friend back, for now, though we would definitely have to deal with the sex thing later.

And the Elijah plan was turning out better than I wanted to admit. He really would make a great long-term ally. I felt kind of evil for trying to get him to kill his brother, but Klaus definitely had to go.

My good mood evaporates when I pull into my driveway and see Stefan pacing up and down my porch.


	16. Stefan the Bad

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Vampire Diaries or any of its characters, dialogue or plot. Warnings for explicit sex__, violence__ and adult language, for this chapter and the whole story to come.__ These characters are not mine, nor is the universe._

* * *

I rip my keys out of the ignition and hurry for the house without bothering with my purse.

"Stefan, you shouldn't be outside. Klaus is looking everywhere for you and my house isn't exactly the _last_ place he would check."

Stefan does not look like himself. "I don't care about Klaus right now. I can handle Klaus."

He grabs my arm, then lets it go and takes three steps back. "I wanted to show you I can do it."

"Get inside, Stefan," I snap, unlocking the door and gesturing him in. "Do what?"

"Get off human blood. I'm strong enough, just like you said." He's talking way, way too fast. When he blurs inside he misjudges and ends up halfway down the hall.

I close the door and snap curtains closed over the front windows.

"Are you crazy? If Klaus gets you he'll kill you and then he'll have plenty of time to search for the coffins."

"The witches will hide them," Stefan says, going to the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of water. Usually he asks before getting anything out of the house, despite how much time he's spent here.

He guzzles the water, sets down the glass and then looks at me accusingly. "You smell like blood."

"Stefan, I'm a human. Of course I do," I fold my arms, refusing to be frightened of him. If I run every time he has trouble with the detox, we're never going to get anywhere.

"You were at the blood drive," he says, keeping his distance. "It's all over you."

"I could shower," I say, taking a step toward the stairs.

"No. It doesn't matter. You're right. You always smell like blood, especially right now when it's the hardest." Stefan squeezes his eyes shut. "Talk to me, Elena. I just want to hear your voice."

"Do you remember when I was drunk and I slipped off the bleachers? And you caught me?" I stay well across the room from him. "I was pretty scared to jump, even as tipsy as I was, but I never doubted that you'd catch me. You were supposed to be Bad Stefan then, but even so, you were there for me."

"Klaus compelled me to protect you," Stefan points out.

"Yes. But he didn't compel you to be afraid of me hurting myself. And you were afraid, Stefan, I saw it in your eyes. Even at your darkest, you are still yourself. There's still strength and good in you. You should trust that more."

He laughs nervously and takes another drink of water. "Yeah, well it takes a lot to get it to kick in."

"You care more about being good than anyone I've ever met," I tell him. "You try harder at it than anyone. You just have to believe that you are strong enough and you must be, or you wouldn't have ever quit human blood. Not once. No matter what Lexie or I did to you."

His eyes are darting around again, so I keep talking.

"Do you remember helping Caroline become a vampire? You were so good to her, so patient. And Vicki. Nobody would have tried half as hard as you did with Vicki."

He laughs again. A weird, paranoid laugh. "Yeah, and look how that turned out."

"You're trying now. To detox, without any help, without anything to make it easier. Who else would even try, Stefan? I'm proud of you."

"Elena, you don't even understand what it's like! It doesn't matter how much I want just animal blood, my body _doesn't. _It feels like it doesn't even work anymore. I fed all morning, and I'm so hungry I feel like I've been starved and tortured for _weeks."_

"Don't concentrate on that, Stefan. It'll only make it worse." I come forward but when I see his eyes go straight to the bandage at my elbow, I stop. His eyes go to my throat.

I watch his eyes move from one thing to the next, waiting to see what he will do.

The door.

My lips.

The bandage at my elbow.

My eyes.

The door.

My throat.

"Stefan, why do you want to drink human blood?"

"You know why, Elena."

"I want you to tell me."

He's pacing around the island in the kitchen. Around and around. Sometimes he blurs a little and then slows back to human speed. It's making me feel a little sick to watch him.

"So I can be _myself_ again," he hisses, veins sizzling around his eyes. "If I can tear what actually belongs to me away from the monster living in my _fucking fangs!"_

He screams it at me, his face lost to his vampire nature. I freeze.

That means that his predator nature is in control. He could be on me in only a fraction of a second and we were alone. He didn't need to lose control for long. It wouldn't take long. I smell like blood.

"I'm going to go shower," I manage to say through numb lips.

"No!" The veins fade and it's just Stefan again, his eyes pleading with me.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Elena. I'm in control, I swear I am, it's just hard. It's the first day. It's going to be hard. I wish Lexie was here. I couldn't hurt Lexie, so I could rage all I wanted. Not that I'd rather have Lexie than you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll be ok. I just wanted to talk to you, just wanted to see you."

He's pacing around the island again.

I slide my hands into my back pockets. My phone is in my pocket. I click the button and try to slide my finger across the screen to unlock it without taking it from my pocket.

"I won't hurt you, Elena," Stefan says, stopping and giving me a wrenching look, his face crumpled with guilt and strain. "You know that, don't you? I never, never would have taken your blood that one time but it is impossible to fight compulsion, and Klaus is so strong."

I think of Caroline's father but I don't say anything. Stefan doesn't need to know right now that it is possible to fight compulsion. It will only make him feel more guilty.

I can't hear the sound that tells me that my phone is unlocked. Why do I have a touchscreen phone? I can't exactly take it out and call for backup. Stefan needs to have faith in himself. I need to have faith in him. But I'm not stupid enough to think that this is totally safe. If I could just keep my finger on the button, then I could call if I needed to.

"I know that, Stefan. You were breaking lockers trying to stay away from me, for goodness sake. I believe you."

I am trying frantically to think of happy memories but I'm really not feeling particularly nostalgic. It doesn't feel the same to be around Stefan as it used to._ I_ don't feel the same. When he's acting like himself again, it tugs at my heart but I miss that warmth that I used to just soak up from him. Maybe it will come back when he calms down, once he has something other than guilt or violence filling him.

"Remember our trip to my lake house? And watching the sunset when I told you I didn't want to be a vampire?"

"You don't understand, Elena," he says again. "I can't _think _when I'm like this. I try to think about what I want, and who I want to be, but my mind won't process anything but the hunger. All I can feel is the aching in my gums, that sharp pain inside my fangs. My mouth is so dry. My whole body feels dry. It hurts like I have a fever, like I'm bruised everywhere."

I hear the click that means my phone unlocked and stifle a breath of relief.

"It hurts. Everything _hurts,_" he says, voice distorted around his fangs.

My heartbeat is going nuts. That can't be helping him. I know he hears it.

Ric let slip once that Stefan puts the bodies back together. That he feels terrible when he realizes what he's done, but he still can't stop. Is one day of animal blood enough to bleed the violence out of him?

I realize my screen has locked, and I click the button and try to swipe the screen again without looking like I'm doing anything.

"Maybe you need more animal blood," I tell him.

There's a speed dial icon for Damon on the desktop of my phone. It is halfway up the right side. I've pushed it so many times. My finger has to be able to remember where it is.

"I've tried that!" Stefan roars and I flinch. My finger hits the screen but I have no idea if it was in the right place or not. I push it again and Stefan goes still.

"What are you doing?" he asks. I pull my hands out of my back pockets and extend them toward him.

"I'm not doing anything. Stefan, I'm not against you, I'm trying to help. You know that."

"I shouldn't have yelled. I'm sorry. It's just that I've sucked half the forest dry this morning. I went and bought a couple of goats and drained them, too." He laughs shrilly. "Goats. Can you believe that? I've heard Damon complain about having to feed on ugly girls sometimes and I am eating goats. So dignified. Such a lovely way of life. They're _disgusting_. They taste like fleas and dirt and shit."

I hear a noise from my pocket, but have no idea what it is. I've called someone. The only speed dial numbers that have their own icons are Jeremy, Damon and Bonnie. Jeremy's phone was stolen, and his icon is right next to Damon's. What if I've just called his phone?

"It's a lot better than slaughtering people," I say sharply, trying to raise my voice just a touch. "People with families, Stefan. Maybe goats don't taste great but I bet they taste better than being a murderer."

"Don't you think I know that, Elena?" He looks hurt. "Why do you think I'm doing this at all?"

Even if I just called Damon, he doesn't know where we are. Maybe Stefan is just having a bad day, and he's not actually even close to losing control. He loves me. I know he loves me. He's not under compulsion. He wouldn't hurt me.

"You just need to calm down, Stefan. The animal blood probably was enough, you're just used to something more satisfying. Like how a salad makes you feel a different kind of full than a steak." I feel like a total ass.

He's suddenly right in front of me, so fast that I didn't even see him start to move. I flinch and a tiny sound of surprise escapes me.

"See," he says, and it is not his voice. Oh God, it isn't his normal voice at all. That edge of hysteria is starting to ebb into the uninhibited tones of the Ripper. "I'm fine. I can stand right next to you and I'm fine. It doesn't matter how much it hurts. I don't have to act on it."

He takes a deep breath and the vampire aspect takes over his face. I take a step back. "Stefan, don't."

"I'm fine, Elena." The veins disappear. "I'm fine. Look, I can control it." He comes closer and my back hits the wall. There is a small sound from my pocket. What if Damon just thinks my phone called him by accident? What if he can't hear us well enough to know what's going on?

"Don't be afraid," he says, his voice getting quiet, but it is half his voice and half not and I am flat terrified.

"I'm not afraid of you, Stefan," I tell him in the steadiest voice I can pull out. "I know you. I know you would never hurt me. You should give me some more space. Don't be so hard on yourself your first day. I know I smell like that blood drive."

I should try to give Damon some hint of where we are, just in case he is listening.

"I didn't expect you to be waiting for me when I got home. Klaus is looking for you. He-," I choke for a second as the memory of thinking that Stefan had killed my brother sends a mild jolt of reaction through my body. God, the first thought, that he was dead, and then that it had been _Stefan._ I push the thought away. Not helping. "He threatened me today to find you."

Stefan's not even listening to me anymore. "See, I'm fine. What if I don't even need to be on animal blood anymore? What if I can do fine on human blood? I probably just need to practice, like we were doing before. Taking a little at a time from you, because you can stop me and just give me a little. If it's you, I wouldn't take too much. I could try mostly animals and just a little of human blood for a while." He's babbling, his fangs sliding in and out, in and out and his eyes haven't left my jugular the whole time he's been talking.

I left my purse in the car. The purse with my vervain syringe. Ric put a stake in the silverware drawer the other night after all the fighting, but I can't stake Stefan. I know I can't.

"Stefan, you're scaring me. Back up a little, ok?"

He reaches out and takes my shoulders. "I stopped before. It's not that big of a deal. I wouldn't hurt you like I did last time if I was just taking a little every day." His eyes are hugely dilated, only a slim ring of green around them. "Only if you were ok with that. I would only do it if you were ok." He's leaning toward me. I don't even think he knows he's doing it. I try to pull away and back up down the hall but his fingers clasp so tight.

"Stefan, you need to let me go. You need to give me some space."

The veins have taken his face. His eyes are full of blood, his fangs are out. He's not talking, just staring at the artery in my neck.

I cover it with my hand. "Stefan, you have to stop this. You're out of control. Let me go."

He's motionless. I can't tell if he's still breathing. Screw it, Damon's not coming. I want to run for the car and my vervain, but I have a clearer path behind me.

I tear free and run down the hall. Stefan's after me, then he stops, panting at the effort. "I'm ok. Don't run. I'm ok."

I run into the bathroom and slam the door. I lock it, pull drawers out of the vanity to block the door opening and rip my phone out of my pocket. It has an open line to Damon.

"Damon, are you there? I'm at my house, I need you. Stefan is here and he's losing it."

The doorknob turns and the door slams inward, breaking the lock. I scream. There's no response from my phone.

"Stefan, stop it. You don't want to hurt me, I know you don't."

"Elena." It's his regular voice. "What are you doing in there?"

I hear a sound like wind and then the breaking of glass. A lot of glass.

The house is quiet. I wait, because I don't know if that was Stefan leaving, or Damon getting here, or if Stefan just broke something. I should go see. I should go out there and try to talk Stefan down so he doesn't hurt anybody else.

I'm on the floor, hugging my knees and shaking so hard I can hear my teeth clack together. I've been in danger before. I've died. But to have it be Stefan just makes me wilt inside. I can't stop loving those green eyes, even when they go savage and blood fills in the edges.

I hear a roar and I think its Damon. I think…

If it's Damon, I should go out there. He's probably way out of control and if Stefan is in full Ripper mode, even Damon might have trouble handling him. I clench my teeth together but then the rest of me rattles twice as hard. I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Stop it. Stop it, you little coward. Go out there." I've never hesitated to run right into danger before. What is wrong with me?

I do my best to disconnect my cowardly brain, and I stand up, push the drawers in and open the broken door.

"It's _Elena,_ you fucking idiot. You want _blood? _You want it _that fucking bad?"_ That's Damon. Relief tastes like cool water on my tongue as I go running for the open front door. The big window leading onto the porch is shattered.

In the yard, Damon holds Stefan against a tree, screaming in his face.

Stefan's arms are dangling limply down and his head sags. As I get closer, I realize his feet are off the ground. He's hanging completely suspended by all the places he is skewered through the chest by sharp, protruding stumps of tree limbs. He's not moving. He's not making a sound.

As I watch, Damon freezes for an instant and then he drops his grip on Stefan's shoulders, taking one stumbling step back, then two.

* * *

_Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. I am really loving the support and feedback. _


	17. A Friend in Need

_Author's Note: I'm ba-aaack… I fought my way through horrible, thorny, poison-oak ridden bushwacking and lots of quicksand in the Utah desert to bring you this chapter. And while I was gone, I published my first original novel on Amazon. Gonna be riding that high for a while. Enjoy!_

_Warning: Promised shower scene isn't until tomorrow, and this chapter, like all chapters containing Damon, also contains adult language, violence and sexual content. I love a man who is rated R._

* * *

"No! Damon, oh God, _no_!"

There are bloody pieces of wood sticking all the way through Stefan.

I reach Stefan and try to pull him down, but I'm not strong enough. He'll have to be lifted up and off the wood. I gag at the feel of his limp, heavy body. There is blood everywhere. I grab Damon by the shoulders and his eyes are as glassy as Stefan's, his face fully gone to his vampire side, no humanity left. Another load of adrenaline fires into my veins but I don't let myself pull away.

"Damon, you'll kill him. Let him down, take him off the tree!"

"I have to kill him!" He howls the words and it sounds like despair instead of anger. "He's going to kill you! He's too dangerous, I _have_ to killhim!"

"No, you don't. He didn't bite me. Whatever happened, he didn't bite me." I'm babbling and it doesn't seem to be having any affect. "Damon, you can't. He's your brother. Let him go!"

Damon shakes me off and tears Stefan down from the tree, hurling him to the ground.

Stefan curls into a ball, gasping airlessly. I drop to my knees and push his arms back, trying to see if any of the branches hit close to his heart.

"Get back. He's fine," Damon says disgustedly.

Stefan's chest is a ruin, but I don't think anything pierced his heart. Stefan looks up, fangs descending, and makes a vicious hissing sound. I flinch, but he's not after me. In a second, he pushes past me and tackles his brother. They go rolling through the yard, blows falling faster than I can follow. I can't believe he can even fight after injuries like those. He's so much stronger these days, with all the human blood he's had.

"Stop it!" I shout, but I know they won't listen. They never do.

Damon knocks Stefan flat and staggers to his feet. Stefan tries for a punch, Damon grabs his arm and wrenches it backwards, bones breaking. I gag at the sound.

I should be used to their fights. They do this all the time. I think to them, it's like arm-wrestling, but the tree thing was way too far. One of those branches in the wrong place and Stefan would be dead.

"Stop it, Damon. That's _enough_."

"Oh he's fine." Damon kicks him in the side and Stefan shouts with pain, falling in a wretched heap, bleeding all over the lawn. "In five minutes, he'll try to choke me and I'll break his legs. Then we can really have a fun family game night."

Damon's fangs aren't even out anymore. He kicks Stefan again, but it looks halfhearted. "Fuck."

Damon leaves Stefan motionless on the grass and crosses the yard to me. "You ok?" His eyes flicker, like it costs him something to ask that question.

My hand is at my throat and it's still shaking, hard. I drop my head, letting my hair curtain my face.

"I'm fine, Damon, he didn't touch me. I just freaked out, that's all."

He's in front of me, lifting my hair away from my face. He takes my quivering hand from my throat and presses it against his chest. "You freaked out? You, Elena? Daggering Originals left and right and you want me to believe you panicked for no reason?"

I can't look at him.

"He was flashing on and off. I didn't know what to think. He'd be himself, then not himself, and his eyes would go bad, but his voice would be ok, and I just didn't know which part would win." My voice is giving me away, breaking on the last word. I'm hoping Stefan is too hurt to hear me, even though that is an awful thing to think.

Damon drops his forehead to mine, cradling the back of my head. I'm so cold and my breath is coming in strange little gasps. I reach under Damon's jacket, pulling him tight against me, gripping his back through the soft material of his shirt.

I need to feel something real, something I can count on. My head feels light and confused. The drama with Jeremy shook me way down deep, and now this. Damon's arms settle around me; heavy, safe.

"Do you think he would have done it?" I whisper. Like if I don't say it too loud, I won't have to admit that I don't know the answer.

"I don't know." His cheek rests against my hair now, his voice quieter than mine. Maybe he is even more afraid of the answer than I am.

His grip loosens and he lowers his forehead to mine again. I hear him breathe deeply and I wonder if he smells the blood on me too. "I need to take him home. Can I borrow your car?"

"Of course."

"Will you be alright until I get back? I want to board up that window tonight. Sorry about that. I was aiming for the door, threw him too hard."

"I'll be ok." I step back and wrap my arms around myself. "I always am."

Damon's lips press together and he tilts his head at me. "I'll be back soon. Promise."

"Thank you. For always rescuing me."

"No problem," he manages one of his cocky little smirks, but there's a dark well of _something_ behind his eyes and I'm afraid it doesn't have anything to do with me at all.

"Promise me you won't kill him."

His face changes in an instant and he glares at his brother. Stefan is curled on the grass like a dying thing. He just needs a little blood and he'll be ok. It should hurt to see him like this, but it doesn't right now. I just feel cold.

"Promise?" Damon sounds furious. "I keep _trying _to kill him and I just screw it up. If I could fucking grow a pair and end him, you wouldn't have to call me twice a week to keep him from _bleeding you dry_ or driving you off a bridge or sacrificing you to the love-hate relationship he has with his psycho drinking buddy."

He walks over and kicks his brother again and Stefan moans, twisting on the ground.

"Just get me a towel so I don't get blood in your car," he says disgustedly.

I should go to Stefan, but his injuries are going to make him even more hungry, and if he bites me now, I don't want to see what Damon will do to him. I trudge into the house and get another beach towel. That's two this week, soaked in vampire blood. I might need to buy more towels.

I take the towel outside and spread it in the cargo area of the SUV. I pull out the case of pilfered blood bags, staring at it. Should we give some to Stefan, to heal him, or will that make this whole day of struggle worth nothing? My brain is too fuzzy to decide.

"I stole these blood bags for you," I tell Damon. "Should I give Stefan one, do you think?"

Damon touches my chin, smiling a smile that doesn't quite make it into his eyes. "You stole blood for me?" he asks admiringly. "You gonna get caught?"

"No, I covered my tracks," I tell him. He takes the box from me and carries it around to the passenger seat, away from where Stefan will be. Damon straightens and nods at the bandage at my elbow.

"One of those bags from you?"

I tilt my head, momentarily distracted. "What?"

"You gave blood, and then you stole me some. Just curious if you donated to the loot," he seems almost himself again as he curls his tongue around the last word. Damon could make any word, in any language, mean sex.

I nod, blushing and looking back to Stefan. "You should get him home, give him some blood."

I don't know what little devil made me slide my donated bag of blood into the bottom of that box.

Damon walks over and scoops his brother into his arms with a grimace. "Another shirt down. And people wonder why I wear black."

He loads Stefan into the car with surprising gentleness. Stefan grabs his brother's sleeve and groans something.

Damon wrinkles his nose and shoves Stefan's arm in so the door won't catch it. "Fuck you." He slams the door.

"What did he say?"

"He said he's a fucking idiot and I should beat him with a cattle prod."

I give him a disapproving look but it doesn't have much strength behind it. Probably Stefan said something out of remorse that Damon categorized as irritatingly martyr-ish.

Damon winks at me and holds out his hand for the keys. I hand them over and he catches my hand along with the keys.

"Come on, give me a hint. What's your blood type?"

"Gross, Damon. It was just an accident mine was in with that box anyway. I was hoping it'd save a life or something."

I'm such a liar. What is with me? I've been hanging out with vampires for over a year now and I've never gotten all fetish-y about it before, not even when I was trying to help Stefan build up a tolerance. My mind flashes back to my room: Damon's mouth on my neck, wondering what it would feel like if those white canines lengthened and slid into my vein. I'm blushing atomically now. It's dark but I'm sure he's not missing my reaction.

"And it can," he says, taking the keys and smiling seductively at me. "Mine."

"AB negative," I tell him.

Why did I just say that?

He flips the keys around his finger. "My favorite. Be right back."

I go into the house and he's back in less than an hour, with a giant sheet of plywood that he probably robbed out of a lumberyard. I shouldn't support his crime habit.

Damon nails the plywood over the window while I sit on the porch, wrapped in a blanket with my head leaned back against my stupid, broken house. He's got a surprisingly sure hand on the hammer for someone who is distinctly not a blue-collar type.

"I'll be back tomorrow to fix the siding I broke earlier this week, and your door. Stefan'll pay for a new window, too." He grins, tossing the hammer up in the air and catches it. "Aren't you glad I compelled your neighbors not to hear any sounds from this house? Now we can break shit whenever we want."

"Where'd you learn to fix all these things?"

"Life is long, Elena."

"And boring," I finish for him. "Gotcha."

I sigh. "My poor house."

"It's a little worse for wear," he agrees. "Seen some things. If your house was a person, it'd be approaching late-40's crack whore status."

I smack him half-heartedly in the leg, which is all I can reach from my seat on the porch. "Yuk. Don't talk about my house that way."

"Why not? You hate this house."

"No I don't," I protest automatically, then sigh. "Yes, I do. It's so quiet now. I'm all out of family."

"Nah. You just exported some, that's all." He pulls me to my feet. "Long day. You should head for bed."

I pull the blanket closer around me. "I think I'll just stay up a while."

I make my way inside and Damon stands by the front door watching me as I sit down on the couch. Finally, he goes into the kitchen. I almost forget that he's still here until he comes back with a steaming cup of tea.

"Drink this. It has some sugar in it. Should help." He's got his arms crossed, with that flighty, concerned look he gets when he knows I'm upset and has no idea what to do. "Do you want me to call Bonnie?"

"No. It's just been a long day, like you said. Klaus told me Jeremy was dead, sent me a Photo-shopped picture. Bonnie figured it out. Jeremy's fine."

Damon's eyebrows are somewhere near his hairline. "Are you kidding? And you tell me this _now_?"

I shrug. "Par for the course with me, right? Klaus is trying to get me to turn over Stefan. He's apparently too stupid to watch the house, since Stefan shows up here all the time. Besides, Jeremy's ok. Everything's fine," I say.

My voice feels thin, tired, like the rest of me. "I think I just want to sit by myself for a while."

"Okaaay," he says, sounding dubious.

"Is Stefan ok?"

"He'll be fine."

I look up. "Did you give him blood?"

Damon rolls his eyes. "I caught him a rabbit. I don't want him to heal too quickly. Otherwise, what would be the point of beating him up? By the way, do you know how undignified it is to chase a rabbit?"

I try to smile, but it doesn't really work. "Good night, Damon. Thank you."

"Yeah, well, just don't pocket dial me on accident after this," he says lightly. "Scared the shit out of me. See ya for home improvement hour tomorrow."

He lets himself out the front door.

I blink. The untouched mug of tea in my hand is cold. When I put it down, my hand feels stiff from holding it for so long. I'm still wrapped in the blanket and but it doesn't touch the cold inside my chest. The house is empty and shadowy, the plywood across the front window staring at me accusingly. I turn off the lights and go upstairs. I know I won't be able to sleep, but at least I can warm up a little.

I go into the bathroom and run the shower, shedding my clothes on the floor without bothering to fold them for once. I tear the bandage off the needle mark on my elbow and drop it in the trash. I step under the warm spray and close my eyes. I can't get my brain to form a thought, and I'm not sure I care. Nothing about this day needs to be relived.

The shower door opens and I shrink back, my hands flying up to cover my breasts. Damon steps in, stark naked.


	18. Clean

_Author's Note: Watch out, boys and girls! Damon knows how to put the "M" in Mature rating. Expect explicit sexual content. Sentimental sigh. This is one of my favorites._

* * *

**ELENA POV**

My jaw drops and I sputter.

"Damon, you can't-,"

"I'm not here for that," he interrupts. "I know you told me to leave, but I can't stay away."

He steps under the water and his arms surround me. My hands are caught between us and as he holds on to me, I think I should step away. We aren't allowed to do this. I wilt against him anyway.

I've just been frozen, numb, most of the day. The news about Jeremy and then trying to recover from that only to come home to Stefan, and that horrible long dance where I thought he would be ok, and then he wasn't and then he was and the whole time I was more and more afraid that I don't know him at all, or that I do and this _is_ what he is now.

"Cry," he whispers in my ear, his voice somehow sad and commanding all at the same time.

I take a deep, shuddering breath. Damon's hand comes up, cupping the back of my head against the curve of his shoulder and it's not quite familiar yet but it is exactly what I need. The first tear trickles out of my eye and drips onto his chest, and then the next and the next and the coldness is seeping out of my chest and leaving behind a horror and sorrow so deep that my body isn't big enough to hold it.

My breath comes back out on a wrenching sob and I wrest my arms free so I can hold onto him too, and then we're standing in the hot water together and I'm sobbing and sobbing, my legs shaking with the force of it.

Damon says nothing. He lowers us to the floor of the shower and wraps his whole body around me, curling me into a ball against him and letting me convulse into ugly, choking sobs. He doesn't say anything, but his arms tighten and he's holding onto me hard. It hurts inside my head to cry this brutally but the tears don't seem to be running out at all. The well of grief and hurt runs so deep and I've been trying to make it, just make it through to the other side for so long and the other side isn't showing up. I can't take one more day of this life. Not _this_ life, where nothing and no one is ever safe.

I keep crying until I can't remember why I started. So many things are pouring out of me that I can't make sense of all of them, and it feels more like an ending than it did when I died.

Once I quiet, Damon waits for my body to still and relax. When he eventually moves, I curl more tightly into his chest and I feel his lips against my wet hair.

"Don't worry," he whispers. "I'm not going anywhere." He lets go of me for just a second and then gives me a handkerchief. No idea where he produced it from, but I turn away from him and blow my nose, then collapse back into him.

He draws me up to my feet and my eyelashes flutter.

"No," he says huskily. I open my eyes just enough to see him very close, a flash of ice blue eyes and full lips. "Let me take care of you, ok? Just close your eyes and let me," he says, and his voice is rough and low.

I want him near. I don't have energy for more, but I nod just a little so he knows its ok.

I don't know what I expected, but his big hands smoothing shampoo into my hair wasn't it. It feels incredible. Comforting and pleasant. He rubs the shampoo in, massaging my scalp and the nape of my neck, tipping my head to rinse my hair in water that is miraculously still hot.

I sigh and rest my forehead against his collarbone. He works conditioner through my hair so gently that I barely feel it and rinses my hair again. I stand alone for a second and then I feel a washcloth against my shoulder. It is smooth with lather and he draws it down my arm, washing every finger as if I am a child.

I let out another shaky breath and he picks up my other arm, holding my hand against his chest as he washes it. He turns me away from him and the washcloth makes circles on my back, down the curve of my waist, over my bottom and to my legs. There's nothing sexual about the way he's touching me, but he doesn't miss an inch, washing my breasts, my armpits, my toes, between my legs, and I just let him.

When he stops I look up and his eyes are unguarded in a way they never are.

"Hi," he says in that same rough voice. His eyes trace the lines of my face and I can see how much it cost him to listen to me cry.

This man. I have no defenses against this man, but God do I need them.

I kiss him.

His lips are soft and wet and after a second's hesitation they glide over mine. He places a hand on the tile to either side of my head and bends to my level. I let my tongue learn his textures, going slow and sipping at the water on his lips.

"Let me," I whisper against his mouth. He pulls back a little, uncertain.

I retrieve the washcloth and rinse it, add soap and lather it again. I start with his chest, watching his breathing quicken under my touch. I've seen this body wounded so many times. I've seen it racked with pain, usually because of me. I never want to see him endure that again. I touch him with reverence, with gratitude that he is allowing me to, after all I've put him through.

He is unworldly beautiful.

He watches me, follows every movement I make. I've never seen Damon's eyes so naked.

When I finish, I don't clean off the soap. I let it decorate his sleekly muscled body.

Instead I rinse my hands so they are clean when I touch his face. I hold his cheek in my hand, feeling the muscle in his jaw tight under my palm.

"Thank you," I say with such sincerity that it feels like a prayer on my lips.

I'm surprised to see fear flicker through his eyes. I see the beginning of a mocking smirk transform his face.

I'm not going to let him hide from me. Not today. Not like this.

I kiss him, pressing him back against the wall with my whole body. Every movement I make to get closer makes our skin slide together with slippery bubbles and just that fast, I'm aroused. I rub against him with a little moan, my nipples hardening and pushing against his chest. He takes hold of me and does a slow roll of his hips, making his arousal rub slickly over my lower belly. I want it. I want him. I grab his taut ass and dig my nails in to bring him closer to me. He obliges, his big hands tracing the curves of my hips.

He bends and grabs my leg, drawing my knee up and holding it in place, leaving me open. I shudder at the vulnerability, but I don't pull away. He places his other hand behind the nape of my neck, supporting me. His abs tighten as he dips his hips to stroke his cock against my clit.

My head falls back and I try to catch my breath. "God, I never would have figured you for a tease," I groan.

He chuckles darkly. "Figured wrong, Elena."

I love the way he says my name.

Damon changes the angle of his hips and before I know what he means to do, he's pushing slowly into me. I'm turned on, but not quite ready and he stretches me. The breath I just took becomes a prisoner inside my chest. He takes his time, watching me with eyes so hot they _burn_. When he can't go any deeper, I think I'm going to cry again at the feel of it, of him.

He pulls out just as slowly and I feel empty and restless at the loss of him. I push myself against him.

"Again," I whisper.

His lips curve. "Sorry, lover. We're out of hot water."

He's right. The water is cool and growing cold against my back. My skin is so flushed with heat that I didn't even notice.

I know my eyes register my disappointment because his eyes flash with excitement at my desire. He releases my left leg back down to the ground and turns off the water. When he sinks to his knees in front of me, I'm nervous, though I shouldn't be.

He takes my right leg now and hooks it over his shoulder. I don't know if I can take what he's about to do to me. My hands squeeze his shoulders anxiously.

"Shhh, honey. I won't let you fall." One hand splays across my belly, holding me against the wall, keeping me stable. His other fingers open me to him and then his tongue touches me where I'm the wettest, running all the way up from my opening to the sensitive top of my sex. I stifle a scream and my fingers tangle into his wet black hair.

He teases me with his tongue, playing without touching where I want him to most. Once, he slides his tongue all the way inside of me and my eyes pop open with surprise.

"Damon! You can't!"

He does it again and I groan, because it feels amazing, rough and soft all at once.

He slips just one long finger inside of me, not enough, but enough that I can _feel _him. His tongue is very soft on my clit and I pulse into a long, slow orgasm. He encourages me, petting me and soothing me until I release myself entirely. Damon supports my weight while my body drowns itself in so many textures of pleasure that it's impossible they can all exist inside my head without me ever having known they were there.

Now he's holding me, my face hidden in his neck. His erection is huge against my belly, touching me slightly with every one of his heartbeats but he doesn't move, doesn't seem to be in a hurry. I stir a little and he brushes a kiss against my temple.

"You tired?" he asks me.

Unbelievably, I feel a smile start across my lips. "Not anymore," I tease.

"You sure? It's been a long day. We don't have to-," his voice cuts off with a hiss when I wrap my hand around his arousal.

Now he's smiling, too. "Oh, you're asking for it, Elena."

"Damn right I am," I tell him, pulling back so he can see the gleam in my eye. His eyes flare in response and he kisses me, teeth and tongue and hard lips and I try to climb up his naked body to get closer. He picks me up and I wrap my legs around him. He takes a towel off the rack and wraps me in it, squeezing the water out of my hair and getting most of it off my back. Then he drops the towel carelessly on the floor.

He doesn't carry me far, just to the sink with the big mirror above it. He slides me down his body back onto my feet. I don't want to let go of him.

"I want to show you something."

He turns me to face the mirror. I catch a glimpse of myself and his bigger body behind me, both of us so unbearably naked, seen this way. I twist away, trying to face him again, blushing.

He holds me in place with an arm around my waist.

"What, you think you're going to shock me?" He sounds amused. I shake my head, my eyes squeezed shut. God only knows what crazy sexual gymnastics he's done.

"Then enjoy yourself," he tells me, his voice at a husky pitch that I feel like a caress.

He's right, though. I want to look but I don't want him to catch me looking.

Damon steps closer, scooping my hair back over his shoulder so that nothing comes between my skin and his. I can feel his erection barely brushing the top of my ass. He's diamond-hard, and I don't know where he's finding the patience to tease me this way.

He takes my right hand and brings it up, flattening both our hands over my heart.

"I want you to know how you feel to me," he whispers. "Every inch of you is so soft. _Feel,_" he tells me, drawing my flattened palm lightly across my own skin.

With his hand supporting mine, my skin feels different. Silkier, more sensual. I catch my breath and my eyes open involuntarily as our hands skim over the top of my breast, and come down to cup the weight of it in our palms.

It feels heavier, more interesting, my nipple hard against my own palm. He makes a subtle movement, using _my_ finger and thumb to pinch my nipple. Sensation streaks all the way down into my belly and I dare a glance at his eyes. They are hooded, focused on my nakedness, on our hands exploring my body together.

He takes his time rubbing the sensitive skin of my lower belly, and when he goes lower I cringe back against his chest, my eyes going closed again.

"Easy, love. If you don't like it, we'll stop. But I want to share this with you."

Our hands are cupped between my legs, his on top, mine next to my overheated skin. I whimper, and he takes the sound as assent. I open my eyes again to watch as he arranges our fingers like we are going to hold hands.

Then he slides his index finger over mine and pushes them both inside of me. He makes a sound deep in his throat and uses his feet to nudge my legs apart.

"I love that you're wet because you want me, because of how good I feel to you," he growls, touching my earlobe with his tongue.

He moves our fingers, stroking me softly. I can't stop watching him, watching me.

"The next time you're in bed, alone, and your hand slips into your panties," he whispers, just the sound of his voice making me clench on the fingers invading me. "I want you to picture this."

I'm moving faster and he's matching my pace, letting me use his hand to pleasure myself. I'm pushing my hips forward now too, craving more.

"Damon," I pant, watching my nipples in the mirror as they draw up even harder into taut nubs. "I need more. I need-," I try to pull away but he won't let me.

"No, I want you to feel what I feel," he says, his eyes laser-focused on the mirror, on my plunging hips. He pushes my legs even further apart and adjusts a little, adding two of his fingers with my small one. It's unbelievably intimate, both of us pleasuring me, both of us watching.

He moves so that the heel of my hand presses against the top of my sex, and then steps closer, his erection deliciously rigid against my ass, holding me captive between the two sensations. I'm riding our fingers totally unselfconsciously, my head thrown back against his shoulder.

I can feel the orgasm starting in the edges of my body, and I open my eyes and meet his gaze, watching my pleasure feed his arousal, watching how much he loves being with me like this. He curls our fingers inside of me and I can't hold on.

It's disorienting, because I don't just feel it as myself this time. This time, I know how it feels to him, my inner walls clenching around our fingers. I cry out at the pleasure expanding out everywhere from that one point. Damon buries his head against my neck, driving me on with his tongue and biting me with blunted teeth. I want him to pierce my skin, draw my blood into his body but my mouth won't form the words to ask for it.

He drops his hips and I feel the head of his cock nudging at the slick place where our fingers enter my body. He slowly pulls our fingers out to make room.

"Put me where you want me, sweetheart," he whispers in my ear, and my legs are shaky but I manage to reach down and guide him inside of me. He catches the last wave of my orgasm as he enters me. I sigh as he rubs all the sensitive places deep inside me where our fingers couldn't reach.

I want his scent all around me. I want him to erase my brain, just wash it clean the way I know he can. I want every second of this time where I can finally touch him as much as I want to. Any way I want to.

His hand is in my hair again, tipping my head back so that my dazed eyes meet his. He must see what he wants to, because he smiles at me tenderly, even as his eyes are ferocious. It takes the breath out of my lungs to see the contradiction of him so unshielded.

I stay cradled in his gaze as he begins to rebuild all the tension he just released. I can't look away even when my eyelids flutter from the sweet, slow friction he's giving me. I want to disappear into the way he looks at me as he sinks deeper and deeper into my body.

How did I think this would be less tension for me to bear? The feeling of Damon inside of me and the feeling growing in my chest are warring for control of my mind and I lose track of what they mean, sensation and emotion twining tighter, unbearably large, excruciatingly strong.

This indefinable force is what tugs at me every time he's near, but he's touching me in every way a person can and there's no relief in this demand. I don't know if I want to laugh or scream or cry or if I even retain enough sense of myself in the midst of this to do anything.

"Damon, what's happening to me? I feel-," I turn my head against his neck for comfort. I strain closer to him, arching my back. I need. More than him inside of me. I _need._

He's holding me bruisingly tightly, kissing my ear, my cheek. I can feel him grit his teeth in a growl, his face pressed to me, and then his lips gentle back into a kiss on my neck.

"I know. _Elena._ You're okay. Just let me." His voice is halfway between a groan and a cry of pain. "Let go. I've got you, honey. You're safe. You're safe."

I can see in the mirror the helpless confusion in his eyes that tells me he feels it too, that this is more than sex should be. He changes angle and thrusts deeper, then harder, as if it is all he can think of to release the tension.

I don't know how to tell him it's not just the orgasm building inside of me. I don't know what to do, so I listen to him, and I let go.

The synergy of Damon's body with mine is the purest magic. I'm so attuned to him now that it takes nothing to push me over the edge again. I clench hard as my body sobs and convulses in pleasure, exhausted but still finding new highs. The other feelings don't peak, don't recede. They own me, own him and I have no idea what to do about it except wrap my arms over his hands, feeling his muscles quake as he finally explodes deep inside of me, my body sheltering his.


	19. Phoenix

_Author's Note: 15 hours at work today folks. Everybody has been so supportive of this fic, though, that I just couldn't make you wait for this chapter. I'm so excited: my favorite chapters of this whole fic are coming out now!_

_This chapter and the next are dedicated to late-Season-3, early-season-4 Elena, because she is driving me CRAZY! I feel like in the quest to draw out the love triangle, the producers are forcing her to break character into someone more unfeeling than she is. So enjoy my Elena, folks. She's much more reasonable._

* * *

**DAMON POV**

* * *

Elena's asleep with her head on my stomach. I've got my head propped up just high enough that I can see her face and I'm untangling her hair strand by strand and laying it across my chest.

I'm going to kill Klaus in so many different ways that God and Satan together couldn't bring him back with a battalion of witches. He's never going to make her cry like that again. And my brother? Is staying in the basement cell where I left him until I can man up and stake him, like I should have when he fed off Elena against her will.

He was under compulsion from Klaus then, at least. Elena swore he wouldn't do it until the compulsion took hold. I tell myself that's what saved him from my wrath. This time, there are no excuses. I left him in the dungeon with a single inadequate rabbit, so he'll heal as slowly as possible. I wish I could have staked him outside Elena's house. In the heat of the moment it might have been easier, but not even I'm dumb enough to do that where she could see.

I don't know how I'm going to do it, but I am going to have to. You don't ask someone else to kill your brother. If it has to be done, you do it yourself.

I think I can kind of get Elijah betraying us for Klaus, now. Kind of.

Fuck it, I'm not ruining this moment thinking about Stefan. He's obviously going to continue ruining many more moments of my life in the future, no matter what I end up doing. He's not going to have this one, too.

Elena's hair is soothing all the pain out of my chest. I feel like if I could wrap my whole body in it, I might be happy forever. Physically, I feel amazing, every nerve ending from my toes to my eyebrows still singing the smug symphony of you-got-the-girl-and-damn-wasn't-it-fantastic.

Regardless, I've got to get out of here before she wakes up. I want to stay. I love being with her like this, because asleep she always moves closer, never pushes me away. She's so beautiful and for now, I'm free to look my fill at her perfect face and the curve of her naked back in the dim moonlight. As if I have a right to it, to her.

I have to go. I can't be here when she wakes up, because if she sees me next to her and her eyes fill with guilt and horror at what she's done, then there won't be enough bourbon in the world to wash my brain clean again. I was too chicken to stay last time too, even though last time I was almost sure that we'd turned a corner. I thought that after we burned the world down around us there was no way she could look me in the eye and tell me she didn't love me. Although I must have known it was _possible_, because I didn't stick around to play that Russian Roulette. Vampire memories are very vivid. If I see that look in her eye, I will see it every day. Forever.

I know this, and despite ample evidence to the contrary, I do have some sense of self-preservation. Even so, I stay until eight minutes before I know her alarm will go off. After I drop from her window I curse the loss of every one of those minutes.

* * *

**Elena POV**

* * *

When I wake up and Damon is gone, there's a painful squeeze that travels from my chest all the way into my belly, but I'm not surprised.

I roll onto my back, feeling tight muscles in strange places and an overall sense of languorous peace. I bask in it for several moments. There's a gathering throughout my entire body, a shifting of energy inside my mind. Though I don't form a single coherent thought, I know when I get up to dress for school that everything has changed.

I arrive early and sit down in the grass near where Bonnie usually parks, leaning back on my elbows. For a while, I try to pinpoint the feeling I'm having. My body feels wonderful, but it's separate from that. Finally, I remember. From before my parents died. The lightness of when everything is…okay. Nothing looming, nothing worrying me. Weightless, worry-less _presence_.

Bonnie pulls up and even before she gets all the way out of her car, she's staring at me. I smile and wave.

"What happened?" she asks me as soon as she gets close.

I laugh. "That's a lot of stories all at once, Bonnie, and most of them suck. Let's skip it."

"Yeah, but you look- great, actually."

"Thanks. I was just thinking things over when you got here. I think I_ finally_ get it, Bonnie."

"The meaning of life?" she asks, looking amused and puzzled all at once.

"Nope. This is it, Bonnie," I swing my arm in the general direction of the parking lot. "This is it. It's not going to get easier. This whole year, ever since my parents died, since Stefan and Damon moved here, I've been waiting for the hard times to be over. For people to stop trying to kill me, for my family and friends to stop dying."

Bonnie sits down cross-legged and sets her purse beside her, looking concerned.

"It's not going to stop," I say matter-of-factly. "It's not going to be over. There's always going to be danger and drama and I can't let it take so much _from _me anymore. I can't be afraid of breaking."

I look at my best friend and I can feel the strength in my limbs today, as if I'd turned vampire overnight. "I haven't broken yet. I've always been scared that just a little bit more would be too much, more than I could handle. And it was, dozens of times. But I'm still here, I'm still breathing and I've got to find a way to keep living and not just continually falling apart."

"Wow." Bonnie searches my face and her eyes are gentle. "I agree. After Gram died, I had to get out of town to start to feel like that. And it didn't come easy. I'm proud of you."

"I hope you still say that when you hear what I have to say next."

"I will," she says, certain.

"I'm in love with Damon."

"Oh, honey, I know," she sighs. "We all know. When you were with Stefan, you were really in love and infatuated and everything, and you guys would touch, and when he was there I could see he really brought you…peace, I guess. Or comfort. But with Damon, sometimes you guys can be across a room from each other and it is so intimate that I feel like I should leave. I don't see how you could fight that, but Elena, I'm not going to say I'm not worried."

"It sounds inadequate, when I say I love him but I don't know what else to say," I tell her, words tumbling out of me. I've barely ever talked about this. "I don't know that these feelings mean we can be happy or that we can even negotiate a semi-working relationship and I know that even if we get together he is going to make me so mad and he's going to screw up and hurt me and scare me…" I shake my head and look at Bonnie. "Not to mention that he's fallen asleep with me four times lately, and all four times I've woken up alone, after he took off in the middle of the night like I was some bar skank."

"So, trust me, _I know_, Bonnie. But I'm not frightened anymore. I mean, I am, but I won't let that stop me. I won't be held back by not having faith in my ability to be ok, no matter what. If I'm going to go down in flames, goddamn it, I'm going to _incinerate_."

"When are you going to tell him?"

"Now. Right now. I'm not going to class." I shrug. "Again."

"What are you going to do about Stefan?"

"My resolution didn't exactly cover that, Bonnie. I have no idea. It's really messy, but I'll deal. However bad it gets. I just hope I don't lose both of them." My voice quavers, but it doesn't break.

"The only thing that makes it easier is that when I'm around Stefan now, even when he's back to normal, I don't feel the same as I used to. There's a nostalgia, and I _care _so much about him, and I hate that he's in pain, but I don't feel the connection I used to feel with him."

"Listen, Elena." Bonnie sets her jaw and I brace for what I know is coming. "The day you came to my house, I promised I would just listen and not judge. Because that is what a friend does. Now I need to tell you what I really think, because that's what friends do, too."

I nod for her to keep going, and I wait patiently. She's right, and even if I know what she's going to say, I owe her enough to listen.

"Damon's not exactly good boyfriend material. Has he ever had a serious relationship? Of any kind?"

I shake my head ruefully. "Nope."

"He gets totally out of control when he's upset. He can be violent. He doesn't always respect your choices. He _kills_ people."

"He hasn't killed anyone except in self-defense since he almost died from that werewolf bite." I actually laugh. "I can't believe we're having a conversation about a boy that involves murder."

Bonnie rolls her eyes. "Yeah, every now and then I catch a glimpse of our lives and realize how surreal they are. But it's true, Elena, it's a consideration. And he's a player. What are you going to do in a few years if he realized one girl isn't enough for him and he wants you to let him have an open relationship?" Bonnie tilts her head. "I don't doubt that he loves you, but sleeping with different girls seems to mean so little to him that I'm not sure he'd see a problem with that."

I wince. "Yeah. I might have to talk him out of that one. But part of his passion, Bonnie, is that when he feels something, he doesn't do it halfway. He really is a one-woman man at heart. That's why he _hasn't_ had more relationships."

"What about blood? He's been good about blood bags lately, but I bet sooner or later he's going to want a live feed," Bonnie points out. "Even if he doesn't kill, how are you going to feel about him compelling people? And sucking on some girl's neck."

"I'm not sure," I admit. "That's going to be another one we're going to have to work out."

"You're right, too, Elena. He's all or nothing. How are you guys going to compromise when you argue? You've had tons of problems with that in the past."

"Yes, but most of that was because he thought what I wanted would result in my death. Can I really argue with him on that?"

"Um, you _did,_" Bonnie says and I burst out laughing. When I'm finished, I gesture for her to go on and she throws her hands up.

"You're not listening to a word I say."

"Of course I am, Bonnie. I really have thought about all these things. If I hadn't, I would have gone after Damon months ago. I know it's crazy and I know it probably won't work and I know he's going to be a pain in my ass." I press my lips together and shake my head.

"I love him. He's changed so much in just the time I've known him and I'm curious about the kind of person he's going to become. But I'm not stupid enough to go into the relationship wanting to change him. I'll try to bend if I can, and if I can't, maybe we'll blow up and just not be able to make it work."

I stop and tilt my head up at the sky, at the lovely clouds and the pure blue sky. I'm always so wrapped up in my problems I hardly even appreciate a nice day anymore. The real change is something that's been hovering in the back of my mind ever since I found out I was the doppleganger. Since before I lost Jenna, and my biological parents.

"Someday, Bonnie." I say, my voice very quiet. "Someday soon I worry the time will come when I don't have anything left to lose. And when that day comes, I don't want to regret that I didn't let myself love him while I could."

I stand up and rub the blades of grass off my hands. "We both should have died dozens of times already. I mean, he was born 180 years before me. We shouldn't have ever met. I've missed hundreds of chances with him already. I won't miss another."

Bonnie scrambles to her feet and gives me a worried-eyed smile and a hug. "I love you, Elena. And I hope it works. I hope you guys make each other really happy. You deserve it."

I hug her back, tightly.

"He deserves it, too," I remind her gently. She nods.

"I've got to go. Call you later." I wave and head back to my car.

Because he always shows up so fast, I wait until I've parked and walked out to the center of Wickery Bridge before I text him.

**Elena: Meet me on Wickery Bridge.**

And then, because I know how he thinks:

**Elena: Don't worry, no one is trying to kill me.**


	20. Wickery Bridge

_Author's Note: Soundtrack? You guessed it ladies: Florence and the Machine, Never Let Me Go. That kiss in Denver was…flawless. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Vampire Diaries or any of its characters, dialogue or plot. Warnings for explicit sex__, violence__ and adult language, for this chapter and the whole story to come.__These characters are not mine, nor is the universe._

**ELENA POV**

* * *

I stand in the center of the bridge, looking down into the water that suffocated my parents. The wind lifts my hair and tickles my face and I take a big gulp of air. Because I can. Because _I_ still have chances. I won't waste them.

He doesn't make a sound but I feel the air change. I turn to see Damon at the end of the bridge, walking toward me with that long-legged, confident stride. He stops, something in my face or the angle of my body warning him. Maybe he could hear my breathing change from all the way over there. My heart is beating as hard now as it had been when Stefan hit the brakes, leaving tire tracks across this bridge that I could still see now if I could tear my eyes away from his brother.

My feet are moving toward Damon but all my doubts have come rushing back. The force of his effect on me is so strong that I stop five feet away, unable to take any more. I can feel him as if I were already touching him and it is too vivid, overwhelming me.

I have no idea what to do with all of this. I can't hold it, can't live inside a reality like this. Love is supposed to just be an emotion, a feeling. What flows between Damon and me is a hurricane and I know it will shred me down to raw force and blood until nothing else remains. I can't hold onto myself, onto who I want to be, in the face of anything like this.

He's frozen, wary ice blue eyes captured by me.

The air is thickening around my throat the way it always does when I'm too near to him and I'm strangling on resisting him, my chest heaving with the effort.

His face registers that I'm not going to move, not going to close the space between us and his eyelashes flicker and sweep down.

My fear won't take another thing from me. Or from him.

I crash into him so hard that he takes a step back, arms reaching to catch me before he's even registered what I've done.

I kiss him and the pressure breaks, orgasmically relieving.

I can breathe again but all I want to breathe is Damon. His tongue is in my mouth, my hands in his hair, his hands all over me. His kiss _is _the hurricane and I let it have me. I'm not afraid of it, of him. I want more. I want everything about him.

"Damon," I whisper and I pull back until I can see his dazed eyes.

Our bodies have always spoken the truth to each other. It's my mouth that has lied, it's me that needs to tell him the truth now. In words, not just with touch, with chemistry. And in the end, it's so simple.

"I love you. I'm so in love with you."

He seizes my mouth in a demand that bends me back against his hands. I can't stand against the onslaught, but I don't need to. He'd never drop me.

His lips are desperate, taking and taking as if he thinks this will be his last chance and I'm giddy because that _feeling _is all around me and it isn't crushing me, isn't breaking me. It's just growing, growing inside of us and around us and it doesn't hurt at all.

"_Elena._" My name is a powerful thing on his lips. He groans it into my hair and I wrap my arms around him, cradling his head against me. I hold on hard and kiss him gently.

"I'm sorry it took me so long. I'm so sorry I hurt you, so sorry that I ever hurt you," I whisper to him, and he's not regulating his strength as well as he usually does because his embrace is lifting my feet off the ground. I don't resist the urgency of his touch. He doesn't believe me yet. He's waiting for me to run, to change my mind.

"Elena." He kisses my breastbone, then the hollow at the base of my throat, and lets me slide down his body until I'm on my feet again. He smoothes my hair, his eyes leaping around my face as if he's making sure that all my pieces still fit together the way they should.

I touch his lips with my fingers and I smile, because I can't stop. "I love you."

He kisses me again, fast, as if he wants to catch the words on my lips before they can get away.

I hold him with both hands cupped around his jaw and pull back so I can touch my lips to his cheekbone, his chin, his forehead, his temple. I don't hurry, because I want him to know that we don't have to. Not now.

"I love you so much," I whisper to his collarbone, his ear, his chest.

The light finally starts to dawn in his face and that makes me smile even more.

"I would have told you this morning, but you were gone. Why did you go?"

He shakes his head, his smile growing. "Doesn't matter. So instead you picked Wickery Bridge?" He raises his eyebrows at me. "Really?"

I look down at the water and his hand finds mine. I twine my fingers with his, finding the place they fit together best.

"I wanted to remember. The best and the worst that life has to offer. So I could face it, all at once. Two of the worst times of my life happened here."

I smile up at him. "I wanted to try and balance them out a little bit. And I wanted to remember that however many times you'll hurt me, however much we fight, you would _never_ do something as thoughtfully cruel as Stefan did when he pretended he was going to turn me into a vampire and run us off the bridge."

"I wouldn't," Damon agreed. "I would probably do something disastrous and not well-thought-out at all and hopefully it wouldn't be quite as bad. I made you think Bonnie was dead once, remember? For a pretty similar reason."

I nod. "I remember."

I don't say anything out loud, because it doesn't seem appropriate in the moment to compare, but Damon pretended to kill Bonnie so we'd have a secret weapon to save my life. Stefan did something far more insidious to score a futile point in a power struggle that was ultimately unwinnable.

His shoulders are angling away from me now, and his eyes are flaring, a shadow of worry in them. I wonder if this is when he's going to realize he's commitment phobic. I smile, because that would be funny. Really, really _not_ funny, but sort of perfect anyway.

"Elena, you know I'm not much one for living up to other people's expectations."

"I do," I say calmly.

"I can't promise you," he says, and it sounds like it costs him a lot to say this. His blue eyes are totally open, totally vulnerable and full of loss for a second before they shutter and he arranges his lips into the most false smirk I've ever seen. The sarcasm is real, though. "I can't promise you I'm going to be good."

"I'm not asking you to promise me anything, Damon. You don't owe me that."

"I don't think you get it." The smirk drops away and he makes an effort to be honest that looks wrenching. "I'm- I am who I am from day to day, Elena. Not the person you think I am or want me to be. If you want to be with me, I won't be with anyone else, but I can't promise I'll never kill again, never feed off a human again, never fuck up epically. I can't even promise to really try not to do those things," he says.

"Damon?"

He tilts his head in response, looking down into the water.

"How many times have you ever asked me to be something I'm not?"

"I've tried to make you a vampire. I've asked you to not go off sacrificing yourself for other people about a hundred times and you never freaking listen," he says immediately. "You're a little bit of a martyr, so that probably counts as asking you to be something you're not."

"Yeah, but I can't really blame you for not wanting me dead. You know I'd do anything to keep you in this world."

He studies me. I love the way he looks at me.

I turn my back on the river and slide my fingers through his fine, soft hair. "I know you're not perfect, Damon. I know you've killed and drank and stolen and probably done tons of other stuff I don't know about. I tried for the longest time not to give in to you because I thought it would destroy me to feel that _much_."

I smile. "And it might. But I love you,_ all_ of you and I know I won't be able to stop. I know you will probably do things I don't like, and you might change in a hundred different ways I can't predict now. I can't promise I'll forgive you. But what I'm really afraid of is that I don't have that choice."

"You mean that you know, because that's what happened to you with Stefan?"

"Kind of. The more you love somebody, the more they can hurt you." I'm quiet, feeling all the horrible possibilities buried in that statement.

"I know what that means. I loved Stefan- I love him. I can't stop, but I also can't be with him anymore. The fact that I feel so much more of everything about you…" I smile wryly at him. "And because you are who you are-,"

"We're pretty much fucked?" The corner of his mouth kicks up.

"Something like that."

"So what are you going to tell Stefan?"

"I have no idea. He doesn't really want to live and I'm afraid that hearing about us is going to push him over the edge." I shake my head. "I can't be responsible for that, Damon. And I know you wouldn't be able to live with it either."

He says nothing. I'm sure he knows what I'm going to ask.

"Look, you don't owe me anything. I know I've hurt you and that kills me. I want to stop hurting you more than I want anything else."

His eyes flash and he looks away, studiously casual.

He doesn't believe me. He shouldn't. Because I'm about to do it again. Hurt him to try to help Stefan, because he's stronger, because I know he can take it.

"But I'm asking you anyway. For a little more time. To figure out how Stefan is going to fit into our lives. I'm afraid Stefan won't want to live, and if he does that he'll never speak to me again, or go off on another Ripper massacre that will be all my fault."

"So why tell me now? Why, Elena? Is this another one of those moments you take back? Oh, I'll kiss you but that changes nothing, and I care about you, but that changes nothing, or I'll make love to you but that doesn't mean anything either?" His voice rises dangerously.

"How can you say that?" I ask him. "You were the one who took off."

"Took off? I waited for you _all day_ after we were together the first time, and nothing. No call, no text, no show. Total radio silence."

I shouldn't fight with him about this. Not now, when it's clear we both do care and we're here and finally being honest. But the hurt comes rushing back with his words and I remember how confused I'd been after we had the most incredible sex of my life and then he never said anything about it, or even acted any different toward me.

"If you gave a damn, why didn't you say so? You've been incapable of being serious pretty much every instant since then," I accuse, my voice rising to match his.

"Like you don't already know how I feel about you? I've been giving you space, not pressuring you." His voice rose. "I don't know if you've noticed, Elena, but you don't exactly respond well to people trying to force you into things!"

"Ok." I try to calm down. "I get that, Damon, I do, but you could kinda see where I might get the wrong idea when you asked me to seduce Elijah right after we slept together."

"First, not seduce. Make him fall in love with you. That's easy enough, you do it to most of us just by breathing as far as I can tell. Second, I asked you to do it because_ I_ love you. _Obviously_. And because, goddamn it, no matter how hard I try I can't protect you! A fact that has been proven with embarrassing frequency!" He's full volume shouting now.

"Maybe you don't remember, but when Klaus tried to sacrifice you to break the curse, I was out of my mind trying to find ways to save you. Your beloved Stefan was ready to lie down and just watch Klaus suck the life out of you but I fought for you every _second_ of the time we had. In fact, I fought my way right into a werewolf bite that _would have_ killed me, because I was trying to save you, your friends, _and _respect your insane wishes to not become a vampire while you filled your entire life with them!"

I'm not sure I've ever seen him this angry and if I wasn't totally fascinated by what he was saying, I might have been frightened.

He's not finished. He's so loud at this point I have to take a step back to save my hearing. "And while I was dying, painfully, _for you_, did I ask you to love me instead of Stefan?"

He drops the arm he's been gesturing wildly with, and loses some of his momentum.

"No. Because it has to be real. Whatever you think of me, I have never compelled a woman to like me, to sleep with me, or to love me, but they have. More of them than you want to know about. But none of that was real. You and me had to be real." He looked at me with eyes that were still painfully blue but somehow, looked more like Stefan's in their suffering. "But we weren't. Not if you still aren't sure. If you still can't tell Stefan."

He takes a step away from me. "And if I wouldn't ask you then, I sure as fuck am not going to ask you now."

And with those terrible words ringing in my ears, he turns to leave.

No way, not like this.

"Damon, don't!" I grab his hand and hang on as hard as I can. "I'm not telling you I am still in love with Stefan. I'm not telling you I want to be with him, or even that I need to choose between you. I'm choosing _you_. For everything, for whatever you'll let me be to you." I put myself in front of him.

"I'm _not_ toying with you. I'm not afraid. I _love_ you, so much it feels like it will tear the world down even to admit it, but I do!"

I kiss him and I can feel that he doesn't want to respond but he can't help himself. With a little groan, his hands come up to my face and tangle into my hair, pulling me closer with just a little too much force.

This time it feels like my chest doesn't just loosen, it opens all the way up. Any defense I'd had against him was wrecked. Anything I was holding back in case he didn't want me. I just let it go.

Everything I'd ever felt came flooding out of me. All the love and fear and sorrow and everything I believed in and hoped for and wanted to be. My soul or my mind, or my heart. Whatever it was, I poured it into Damon without holding back, kissing him with all of that and praying it would be enough. No matter how much I gave, the feelings never diminished. They just got stronger and stronger until I couldn't even feel my own body anymore, only his.

Only my hands stroking over his hair and his cheeks and grasping desperately at his shoulders, his lips gentle and harsh, his breath pouring out of him and into me. We are drinking each other, fighting each other, falling or flying. I have no idea. It doesn't end so much as just wind tighter, Damon pulling my head hard into the curve of his neck, panting for air in a way I'd never heard him do before.

"Dammit, Elena. I can't _do_ this again." He captures my face in his hands the way I'd captured his and his eyes are half-mad, brimming with chaos and impulses.

"I can't do this with you and go back. I won't do it anymore. If you want this, if you want me, that's it. I won't give you another chance. I'm not _kind _and I'm not generous and I won't let you go back on this."

I put my hands over his and let my eyes soothe his. "I want this. I want you."

He drops his forehead to mine and he's gasping. I haven't seen him this frightened, this undone since Klaus sacrificed me the first time. Maybe not even then.

"Elena, I swear to you, if you change your mind tomorrow I will take you and I will run for the hills and I'll never let you come back here."

"Damon, I can't be with Stefan. Not anymore. I just can't. But I can't un-love him either. I have to try and help him find his way."

I pull back just enough to make him look me in the eye.

"Damon. I'll let him go, for you. I'll give him up and let what happens happens, whatever pain it causes me and him and whoever else he hurts." I wait for him to believe me. "For you, if you ask me to."

I wait, and I can't tell if he gets it or not. I drop my voice to an aching whisper. "But don't ask me to, Damon, please. Don't ask me to let him die. He's your brother."

He shudders as if he's going to be sick. "You have no idea what you are asking me for."

I'm silent because there's no answer to that. I don't know if he loves me enough to put himself through that. I'm not sure he should.

He kisses me desperately, as if he's leaving or dying or losing his mind. Our teeth clash in our careless, furious hurry. His hands in my hair pull almost painfully, wrenching my head back, forcing my neck to be exposed, my mouth totally open to him. His hands slide down to my waist and wrap around me, pulling me off the ground and crushing me to him and I hold his face and try to ride out this fury, this explosion of love and hatred and insanity. He's capable of so _much_ it makes sense that he's not human at all. He's so much more. I wonder what he was like when he was human.

I gentle him with my lips, with my hands. His mouth softens but his arms hold me tightly enough that I can only take tiny breaths and I know I'll bruise and I don't care. Whatever I told Damon, I'm not sure I can bear to let him go long enough to even have a conversation with Stefan, much less figure my way through his twisty brain enough to make him want to live.

Damon kisses me once more with a tenderness that brings tears to my eyes, our lips parting so slowly it is like we are re-learning how to be separate.

He throws his head back and _howls_ and it is not like a human and not quite like an animal, but something preternatural and terrifying. Every hair on my body rises at the sound, and my eardrums tremble. I've heard him yell in pain, and it is like that, but deeper, angrier, with a growl that rips up through the middle and squeezes my heart with pure adrenaline and the need to run because from way back, humans have been prey and they _know_ the sound of danger.

I hold onto him even tighter, pressing my cheek against the taut cords in his neck, feeling the sound vibrate up and out of his throat and when silence comes again, my ears ring with it.

His arms loosen around my waist and he sets me slowly back onto my feet, smoothing my hair and cradling my head and my back against him, carefully now. His chin rests on my head, and I let him wrap himself around me and it is such a relief to feel safety that I almost don't recognize the feeling at first.

When I finally step away, I keep hold of his hand and he hasn't answered me, but he has. I don't want to disturb this feeling between us. It feels sacred, and I want to memorize everything about these moments. So I keep the silence and we walk off the bridge together.

I love the feeling of his palm rubbing against mine. I can't believe I finally did it. I can't believe he still gave me a chance. I can't believe I can touch him now.

We walk for a while before Damon says, "Oh shit, did you bring a car?"

I stop walking and crack up laughing. "Yes. But it's the other way."

He grins, then starts to laugh too and pretty soon we're both bent over, laughing so hard it is difficult to breathe. I sit down on the ground and gasp, holding my stomach and Damon sprawls next to me, leaning back on one elbow and looking more carefree and happy than I have ever seen him. He's totally unconcerned with what he's doing to his undoubtedly expensive jacket and I love that, too.

"You knew what I was going to say," he accuses, not looking that upset about it. "About Stefan."

"I didn't have any idea what you were going to _say_," I protest. "But I knew you'd do whatever you could to save him. You always do."

He glances down, picks up my hand and rubs the back of it with his thumb. He tucks it inside his jacket, where I can feel the curve of his muscles under his shirt.

I smile teasingly. "You planning on keeping that?"

"Uh-huh."

I lay back on the ground, smiling at the sky, letting Damon keep my hand under his jacket.

His eyes flicker across my face. "I need you to see Elijah again. I need you to make him love you."

"The way you love me?" I ask, because I want to say it aloud again. Nothing can puncture my mood right now.

"At least a tenth. If you bump him up to 20%, he'll give up his life for you, and that's all I ask," he says, mockingly serious.

"Oh, is that all?" I tease, and jump him. We roll over and over in the grass, playing with our tongues and our bodies and laughing. How can a 170-year old vampire make me feel young?

When we finally start walking back to my car, he takes my hand again.

"Stefan's not going to let you go as easy as you think he is," Damon warns. "For a while there, I thought he was trying to push us together, maybe even saved my life just so I'd be around to protect you. I know he thought he'd never be with you again. Either because you would never forgive him or because he'd never be able to flip the switch again and live with what he'd done. Probably both."

We reach the car and he makes no move to get in. "After he punched me for kissing you, it became pretty clear that I overestimated his martyr tendency for the first time ever. Even if he could never have you, he didn't want me to."

"That's not what he said to me."

Damon looks patronizingly at me. "Elena, you're a pretty girl. What do you think he's going to tell you, that he's a selfish, jealous ass? Trust me, the truth doesn't always get you the girl."

"That's what you're doing, though, isn't it?" I ask him quietly. "With Elijah. You're leaving me a bodyguard in case you don't make it."

Damon scoffs, but the muscles around his eyes are too tight. "The chances of me getting my ass kicked before Elijah? Too slim to bother planning around."

It's pure bravado, but it's a little bit cute. Who would have guessed that Damon would ever out-martyr Stefan?

"Anyway, I'll help you try to fix him, but you're the one who'll have to convince him to let you go. I can kick his ass six times a week and it won't make a bit of an impression. And hypocritically," Damon grins. "I'd rather he not try to seduce you every time I'm not around for five minutes."

I squeeze his hands. "I'll take care of Stefan. Trust me."

* * *

_Author's Note: What you do you think guys? I'm nervous about this one: so much to live up to!_

_I spent 8 hours today consumed by writing a spin off to the lovely blood sharing scene in 04x02 Memorial, when I was supposed to be writing the last chapter to this fic. It's not due for a while yet, though. Don't worry, we have ten more chapters of love, friendship and ass-kicking before you have to get off this ride. And for my blood sharing story, check out "Sanguine Veritas" and let me know if you think it was worth procrastinating for!_


	21. Damon Salvatore

_Author's Note: Be advised, this chapter contains VERY BRUTAL AND EXPLICIT VIOLENCE. You've been warned. Extra points for anyone who, after finishing the chapter, knows why I chose the name I did for this chapter. These characters are not mine, nor is the universe._

* * *

**Damon POV**

* * *

I'm an idiot.

If I wasn't an idiot, I would still be in Elena's arms instead of doing the only thing on earth that can ruin my good mood. As I walk down the stairs, jug of animal blood sloshing in my fist, I think that there might be something that I'm not willing to do for Elena after all.

I lean my forearms against the door and watch Stefan through the barred window for a long time. It's hard to look at him, because I'm seeing double. I'm seeing the little boy who would cry when I would go fishing without him and I'm seeing his senseless, savage eyes staring at her jugular. I'm seeing him save me from that werewolf when he was supposed to hate me. I'm seeing him knock me off of Klaus even though Klaus had taken everything from him. I'm seeing him kissing Elena.

I feel so sick. I should go back upstairs and go to bed. I need to sleep off this feeling, run it off, drink it off. My stomach is churning like I drank rancid milk laced with vervain.

"You here to kill me, brother?" Stefan says without raising his head.

That's my cue to say something sarcastic, but there is nothing funny about how much I love him and how very, very much I want to kill him. If I open this door, how will I keep my hands from tearing him apart? If I open this door, I can burn Klaus like old garbage and Elena will still never be safe.

She's famous for her bad decisions and misplaced faith. Why am I going along with this?

"Do it." Stefan looks up and his face is all challenge. "If you're not man enough, call Klaus."

"And give him back his own personal Dr. Mengele? I think not. Klaus's minion army doesn't need any new talent." **

"Oh, he'll kill me this time. If you're not sure, drop one of the coffins into the ocean and tell him I did it out of spite."

"I'm not in the mood for this martyr shit, Stefan," I snap. "Tell me something interesting for a change. You know I don't give a shit what you do. You can kill, steal, lie, or cheat on your taxes, no skin off my ass and yet you manage to find and push my only button?"

If he was pulling this self-sacrificing act to Elena, I'd say he was doing it to win her over. But doing it to me? The only thing he's hoping to win is his own death, by my hands.

"Your only button? Come on, Damon, you lose your shit two or three times in a good week," Stefan laughs bitterly. "It isn't hard."

"You know what is hard, Stefan? It's hard to look at your face and not rip it into little bloody pieces. It's _hard_ to understand how you can't manage to keep from trying to fucking _eat_ the girl we both love!"

"You could have her, you know." His voice echoes like an empty cell. "Kill me. Tell her Klaus did it. You'll have her all to yourself."

I slam the bolt open and stalk across the room. Stefan's sitting in the chair I installed, broken links of chain all around it from the last time I let him out. Chain that I broke because I didn't have it in me to let him rot in a cell, and I figured the lives of the few dozen lingerie models he'd kill were worth less than one, mostly pain-in-the-ass brother.

I kick the chair over and he hits the stone floor and rolls to his feet, pissed off but not enough to break through his self-flagellating depression.

I've got the girl. I could throw it in his face right now.

It'd be nice if I could say that I don't tell him because I want to keep his hope alive, because I want to give Elena a chance to save him. But I'm not that good.

I want to see his face when I touch her in front of him. When I kiss her. I want to see his face when a girl chooses me instead of him. Because he told her I wasn't good enough for her. Because deep down, he thinks he can leave her, head off on a killing spree for a few months, feed from her against her will, use her dead parents to fuck with her head, then maybe try to rip her throat out and she'll still love him.

Maybe he's right. Maybe if I weren't here, Elena would forgive him and nurture him back to bunny-killing, football-hero health. But there's no way I am going to allow her to waste her life saving him, watching him, worrying about him and never once living for herself.

I'll let him out. I'll give him his chance and I'll let her heal him with that infinite grace that nobody but Elena could ever maintain after all he's put her through. But I won't give her back to him to suffer through the process of Stefan trying to build a life out of his guilt, regret, and that inconvenient little urge to slaughter a cheerleading squad on a bi-weekly basis.

I shove the jug of animal blood against his chest so he has to take it from me or spill it all over himself. "Got it from the butcher. Told him I was making _blood_ sausage." I flare my eyes aggressively. "Still might."

Stefan doesn't answer. He doesn't even look at the blood.

"Drink up, brother. When you're full as a tick on a waterbuffalo binge, you come on out and play."

I turn as if to go, because I want to push him to finish this. I can feel his desperation. Suicide by Damon was his plan for redemption and I knew it when I came down here.

"You know, brother," the careless Ripper voice says from behind me. I brace myself and turn, lifting a mocking eyebrow. This will be his last ditch effort. He better make it good.

"There's only one way to call someone's bluff," he says, feeding my words back to me with that smile that doesn't belong on his face. That smile belongs bathed in blood, and it has been. Many, many times. "And that's to be willing to lose _everything_ if you're wrong."

I actually lose my sight for a second as the adrenaline in my system overloads the blood supply to my optic nerve.

He made it good. He's just playing the best villain again, I remind my lengthening canines. Then, fuck it, I've got him pinned against the wall by his throat, his feet a foot off the ground.

My fist rapes his chest cavity as I cram it all the way up to his heart.

My fangs pulsate with the need for his blood and I hold his heart in my hand, feeling it shudder against my conscienceless palm.

"Hear me now, brother. If you hurt her. If you touch her with one tainted little finger. If you take a single drop of her blood, even if she offers, even if she begs you to, you will be _my _victim. I will lock you in a room full of pictures of her. I will force-feed you animal blood just often enough to keep you breathing and her eyes will be your hell for_ every_ day of forever."

Stefan's face is twisted with pain, his breath coming in little gasping sobs. I squeeze his heart gently.

"The next time you look at her, that's what I want you to see. Her eyes haunting you for your sins. Remember, brother. I will never _allow_ you to make her one of those sins."

I let go of his heart. I hold him up by his neck and haul my arm free of his chest. He falls like a corpse to the floor, huddled next to the jug of animal blood. I leave him there.

I don't close the door to the dungeon behind me.

* * *

_Author's Note: If anyone is still puzzled about the chapter name, Bonnie gives it away in "Smoke without Mirrors." Some of the subtleties in Damon's motivation will be explained in the next chapter. I really love how this chapter came out. I hope you like it too, even if it isn't sweet Delena._

_**Dr. Josef Mengele was the most famous of the Nazi doctors who ran torturously sadistic experiments on human subjects without anesthesia in Auschwitz and other German concentration camps during WWII._


	22. A Compromising Position

_Author's note: Warning for explicit sexual content. Pretty much you can just expect that if Damon is in a scene, there will be explicit language and sexual content. That man just doesn't do PG-13. _

_Also, for those of you that submitted guesses: The last chapter was titled "Damon Salvatore" because if you remember, in "Picture the Worst" Bonnie told us that Damon means demon and Salvatore means savior: so his name is actually Demon Savior, and I thought the last chapter was a perfect demonstration of that ultimately beautiful conflict of his nature. Congrats to C-JoJo for figuring it out!_

_Damon also means "to gentle or tame" in Greek or "loyal friend" in Ireland. All apt. It is also a corruption of the word demon, not a direct translation, for whatever that's worth._

* * *

**DAMON POV**

* * *

I climb though Elena's bedroom window and sneak to the living room so that I am sprawled on the couch, hands laced behind my head and boots on the coffee table when she walks in. This is a lot more work than coming in the door, but always worth it.

There's a perversely mischievous part of me that likes to scare her because after having earned the screams of so many people in my life, I like how Elena is only afraid _until_ she sees that it's me.

Plus, afterwards, she gives me that cute scowl and is distracted for a few seconds from saving the world.

Sure enough, she sees me on the couch and jumps, though I don't get a shriek this time.

"Da_mon_!" she complains.

I smile up at her. "Hello, beautiful."

I stand up and thread my fingers through her hair, kissing her all slow and leisurely, because I can.

Still, by the time I pull back I'm as breathless as she is. I wonder how long it will take me to get used to her relaxing into my body instead of freezing in place as she always used to, uncertain and frightened of her own response to my touch.

Her pupils are dilated, her lips parted and flushed with her response. I steal one more kiss before I step away. There are a lot of things that have to happen very soon for Elena to be safe, and I won't delay any of them, even to take her to bed.

"How's Stefan?" she asks after taking a moment to compose herself. The fact that she had to take that pause fills me with masculine pride, so the smile I give her is pretty cocky as I lounge back onto the couch.

"He's a free man. I called him on my way over, and he should be here in an hour or so."

"What do you mean, a free man?"

I scratch my jaw. "I might have locked him in the basement after I broke your window with him."

"You locked him up?"

"And starved him. But no worries, today I let him out, fed him, _and _I cheered him up."

She steps directly in front of me so I get the full benefit of her crossed arms and disbelieving expression. If she could see how folding her arms pushes her breasts up, she wouldn't wonder why I love to get her all indignant and righteous.

"What did you do?"

"Mmm, family business. Brotherly business. None of your affair, my dear."

"I'm serious, Damon, what did you do to him?"

"I'm insulted!" I protest, though I know good and well if I told her what I actually did, I'd be getting a near-fatal dose of Disapproving Elena Face.

She remains unconvinced.

I tilt my head. "Ok, ok, since you have _no_ faith in me, I'll explain. I gave him what he needed."

"What did he need?" she asks cautiously.

"A little extra motivation to make him believe that he could stop himself from hurting you." I pull her down on the couch next to me.

"It happens that I know what his worst nightmare is, in more vivid color than I think he's ever imagined it. I made sure that he understood I would enforce it if he couldn't control himself." I give her a crooked, pleased smile. "Now, he knows he can behave himself because I won't allow him any escape from himself."

She sighs. "You're right. I'm pretty sure I don't want to know the details of that one. I'm surprised you're so cheerful, though."

I sling an arm around her shoulders. "He was very provoking. I find that comforting."

"Um, why?"

"Because it means he didn't want to do what he did. He just took his self-destructive impulse a little too far, and now I've curbed it for him and we can all go back to being a jolly, happy ménage a trois."

"Did you tell him about us?"

"Nope." And I'm going no closer to that conversational lynch mob at the moment. "He's going to be here pretty soon. You figured out what brilliant psychoanalysis you're going to use on him?"

"I think so. All the stuff you told me earlier will really help."

"Ok. You drink the vervain?"

"Yes."

"Wearing the vervain? Stakes under the couch cushions, vervain syringe in your pocket?"

"Wrist-mounted stake shooter, crossbow in the coffee table drawer, phone in my pocket," she recites dutifully. "You're totally insane, you know that, don't you?"

I think of Stefan breaking that bathroom door she was huddled behind and how her hands shook when she finally came out.

"A little crazy never hurt anybody. Okay, good luck." I peck her on the cheek and stroll toward the front door.

"You're being pretty cool about all this," she says suspiciously.

"I don't believe in stress. Raises your blood pressure." I wink, hand on the doorknob.

"You're going to hide in the next room, aren't you?"

"Absolutely."

She sighs heavily. "Damon, I don't want you listening in."

"Why, because you're going to play strip-rehab? One piece of clothing for every person he doesn't kill?" I snap. Not good. She's supposed to think I'm fine with all this.

"No, because I can use you against him more effectively if you're not here. If you can hear him, I bet he can hear you. And it's personal for him, Damon. Very personal. It isn't fair to let you listen in."

I smile beatifically, making an effort to put my casual face back on. "Okay, I won't hide in the next room. If you'll do something for me."

"Other than being a walking armory?"

"Mm-hmm."

I'm sure I'm doing a great job of seeming cheerfully laid-back, but she sees something in my eyes that makes her visibly soften, so maybe my acting actually sucks.

"What do you need, Damon?"

"Just for you to drink a wee bit of my blood before my brother comes over for his intervention."

"This again? Really? You know I don't want to be a vampire."

And…right into the trap.

I tilt my head and say softly. "I thought you said this was safe."

She sputters.

"You only turn into a vampire if you _die, _Elena." I drop the façade for just a second, just long enough to let my eyes burn the word into her.

Elena actually laughs. "That was a good try, Damon, but I'm not going to die. He won't hurt me. But I'm not going to take a chance that something else might happen today that might end up with me transitioning. No way."

I lean my hip against the foyer table and smile pleasantly. "So let's talk about a little thing called compromise. You've heard of it. I bet Bonnie brought it up a time or three in a list of virtues I _don't_ have when she was trying to talk you out of dating me."

"Why would you think that?"

"Oh, please, Elena," I scoff. "If Bonnie knows a thing that has happened between us, and her witchy little eyes tell me that she does, then she's tried to talk you out of it. And I bet my total disregard for your choices in favor of your safety featured prominently in the 'CON' column."

She looks guilty, but tries to hide it by sweeping her hair behind her ear and trying for an appearance of objectivity. "Ok, so what are you proposing?"

"A little wager. If you really think my brother won't kill you, then take my blood. If you're wrong, you still get to live. If I'm wrong, you get to live as a human. Everybody's happy."

She stares at me for a long moment, trying to figure out how to worm her way free of this logic.

"You seemed pretty confident that whatever you said to him would work, that he wouldn't try anything," she attempts.

"I am, actually. I think Stefan is Stefan, world without end, no escape. To his endless chagrin. But." I look at the ceiling. It's an effective argument, but I don't so much want to say it out loud. "His worst nightmare is dangerously similar to mine and I'm not totally willing to rely on him to keep it from coming true." I meet her eyes to make my point. "I'm willing to rely on you."

"Dammit, Damon," she curses and she's in my arms so fast I wonder if she's already a vampire, kissing me hard and angrily.

I could get used to this. I boost her onto the foyer table, knocking her purse onto the floor, and step between her jean-clad thighs. I am cupping her ass and jerking her against me, devouring her with no gentleness, just fear and anger and desperation because my goddamn crazy brother is going to be in a room with her again in less than an hour and there's fuck-all I can do about it.

"Damon," she gasps, digging her nails into my shoulders and pushing herself against the bulge in the front of my pants. I did _not_ plan this, but I'm not protesting.

She's sucking on my lower lip and pulling at my shirt. A button goes flying and I growl and tear my shirt out of her way. My hands are up under her blouse on her naked back, pulling her close so I can feel her breasts flatten against my chest. The heel of her boot bruises my ass as she wraps her legs around my hips.

She bites my earlobe. "Damon, please, I know we don't have much time but I want you. I _want_ you before I have to see him again."

"This isn't going to distract me from the blood thing," I warn her around the haze of sex eroding my brain.

"Get a knife," she tells me, yanking at my belt with more enthusiasm than precision.

"I can just use my teeth," I protest, pulling off her boots. I don't want to leave her for a second.

"I want to drink from your neck," she tells me, almost hissing the words, her eyes wild and glazed with sensuality. I nearly come in my pants.

I have a knife from the kitchen in less than the time it takes her to unbutton her jeans. I throw it on the table, at a safe distance from her.

"You sure?" I ask her once, and she nods, grinning at me in a way that could fuel my fantasies for about a hundred years.

She flings the wrist-mounted stake shooter across the room. I make her clothes disappear and then I'm back between her legs, bending to kiss her breasts. Her fingers weave into my hair and she holds me against her nipple, making these throaty little cries that are going to drive me over the edge way too fast. I reach down to make sure she's really on board for a quickie and she's so wet my finger slips in without even meaning to.

She moans and I add another finger, stretching her just a bit so I won't hurt her when I come inside.

She drops her forehead against mine, rolling her hips against my fingers. "I love you," she groans into my ear and I smile like I've won every game that's ever been invented. My fingers curl inside of her to hit the spot I know she wants me to and I nuzzle my thumb against her clit.

She clenches around me and climaxes, just like that. God in heaven, I love this woman. I unfasten my jeans and push them down using only my left hand, not willing to miss any of the delicious waves of her pleasure squeezing my fingers. With a smooth movement, I replace my fingers with my cock and tilt her hips toward me so I can sink in all the way to the hilt. I know we don't have time, so I don't give her a chance to recover before I start stroking into her, rhythmic but forceful.

"Where's that knife?" she asks me, her eyes hooded and sensual. I feel my eyes try to roll back in my head from the feel of her and the look in her eyes. She's_ so_ wet, her response to me open and honest and unbearably sweet after all this time.

She kisses me all hard and demanding again. I get the knife and capture both her hands with one of mine. They're roaming all over me and I don't want her to hit the blade by accident. I make a small slit in my neck and throw the knife back toward the kitchen. Her eyes focus on the blood and she latches on as hungrily as a baby vampire.

This time my eyes really do roll back in my head as her tongue laves my skin and I feel the pull of her drawing on my life's blood. It feels like her tongue is directly connected to my erection through my veins. Every time she sucks I feel myself swell and pulse inside of her.

I am not going to last. I'm going to lose it like a fourteen-year-old at a peep show and leave her wanting more right before she sees Stefan.

"Hold onto me, honey," I groan, and pull her mostly off the table, lifting her legs and draping them over my arms, opening her totally to me.

She's still drinking, mouth fastened hungrily to my neck. I bend my knees so I'll hit just the right angle and drive into her. She falls back with a breathy scream, but then she's gripping my biceps, urging me on and it's a good thing because I couldn't stop if two dozen Jeremys and my dead mother walked into the room.

I can hear myself grunting as I push her, harder, deeper, faster probably than she wanted to go but she's staying with me, holding onto me and crying out in broken, gratifying little noises. She brings her lips back to my throat and bites me with her dull human teeth, licking and stealing another taste of blood. My knees go weak and I'm afraid I'm going to drop her. The head of my penis feels as big as a fist, buried deep inside of her and I don't ever want to take it back out.

"Elena, please, you've got to stop, oh God that feels good," I'm begging her breathlessly, groaning, but it's too late. I explode up into her, lifting her clear off the table and pumping wave after wave of my release as far inside of her as I can get it.

I feel the exact second when my movements force her into her own orgasm and I only have enough brainpower to be relieved that I didn't leave her behind like a chump.

My head goes light and tingly. Shit, I think I'm going to pass out. I have the presence of mind to grab Elena around the waist and hold her up. I grab the table to slow me down but I hit the hardwood floor so hard that I think I cracked a kneecap. I don't care. I can't feel a thing.

I pull Elena's legs out from around me and collapse onto my back with no finesse, knocking the air out of myself but cushioning her fall effectively. She doesn't make a sound, just settles closer so that she's still holding me inside of her and I love her so much, love _her_.

I fall asleep like a happy idiot on her floor with my pants around my ankles.

* * *

_Author's Note: Wow. I did not plan that. For the record, they were supposed to be fighting and then they insisted on having sex instead. Disobedient characters._

_If anybody is interested: I just posted the first chapter to a 3-4 chapter spin off of the blood sharing scene in episode 04x02 "Memorial." The story is called Sanguine Veritas, and the first chapter is a killer. _

_Also, a poll for all you dedicated TVD watchers. Um, I guess that is all of you. What are the chances that CWS is going to actually write us a scene where Elena's heightened vampire senses result in her jumping Damon because she can't ignore how much she's attracted to him? Is there ANY CHANCE they will actually admit this and use it on the show?_


	23. Stefan the Moderate

**DAMON POV**

* * *

"Damon? Hey, wake up,"

Elena's voice. I like Elena's voice. I can feel her weight on top of me, her soft breasts against my chest. I like naked Elena.

Her lips touch my cheek and I lift one 34-pound eyelid so that I can smile at her.

She giggles. "Come on, you've got to move. We're out of time." She doesn't sound particularly upset, or urgent, so I close my eye again and focus on the feeling of her nipples.

"Damon, I'm serious. Stefan's going to be here in like," she pauses, searching for a clock. "Oh no, in twenty minutes."

I groan. "Elena, you're such a buzzkill. Just stake him and come back to bed."

"We didn't even make it to bed," she giggles and swats my chest.

"Since when do you giggle?" I ask her, pulling her head down so I can kiss her. "Mmm, I think I like it," I growl against her lips.

Her tongue slips into my mouth and Stefan and all the twenty minutes's in the world can go to hell. In the end, Elena is the one who curses and gets up off the floor. I manage to work up the motivation to pull my pants back on, but that's all.

She glances at the clock again and now she's kind of nervous. "Damon, this is bad. This is actually bad. We're not ready."

She's right. I stand up, testing my legs. They hold, so I nod.

"Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to clean up, and you are going to go take a shower with a LOT of soap." I give her a pained look. "And I'm not going to come up and wash your back for you."

Her eyes go hot. "Raincheck," she says and I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Run, Elena. Run fast before I catch you."

Instead her hand brushes over the front of my jeans and I reach out to grab her and hear running footsteps on the stairs.

"You're going to pay for that later!" I yell, and her laughter floats down the stairs.

I do a vampire-speed clean up, finding the bloody knife and every piece of our destroyed clothing, even my button. I stuff it all in a bag to hide in Elena's room until I can see if anything can be saved. I leave the stake shooter on the stairs for her. Then I wipe down the table and everything in the immediate area with enough bleach spray to defeat an Ebola outbreak.

"I'm leaving!" I shout up to Elena. "Call me later!" If I go upstairs, I'm not coming back down.

I let myself out the back door, because I'm wearing the mother of all satisfied smirks and Elena destroyed my shirt. Probably not the best time to run into Stef. Thank God _I_ don't have to run his therapy session right now.

Elena drank enough of my blood that Stefan could kill her twice and she'd still come back to life. She's going to fix him so that I can have my brother back, even though he's probably going to stake me for stealing his girl. And I got laid.

Win. Win. Win.

* * *

**ELENA POV**

* * *

I'm trying to shower fast, but I am not sure how much soap I am going to have to use to keep Stefan from smelling the sex on me.

The bigger problem is that I can't stop grinning. I make an effort to close my mouth so I don't get vanilla-scented bubbles in it, but as soon as I rinse, I'm smiling again.

I knew when I went to meet Damon on Wickery Bridge that he would make me happy, but I don't think I realized how much fun it could be to date him. I mean, this should be pretty serious. I'm trying to help his brother overcome deep-seated psychological conflicts that have ruined his life several times over. Moreover, his brother is my ex, who is still in love with me, highly unstable and may have tried to kill me. This is definitely high drama.

But instead of moping around and being all stressed-out, Damon had me joking and laughing the whole time, even when we were trying to compromise about how to make this meeting safe.

I shiver. Not to mention how much fun it was to consummate the compromise. I don't know if I'm grinning because of the two orgasms I had, or because I brought Damon Salvatore to his knees. Literally.

Only he could make a quickie a two-for-one.

I hear Damon shouting up the stairs that he is leaving and grin even more. He sounds happy. I love that I can make him happy.

I groan. "Focus, Gilbert. Wrong brother. Focus!"

The whole speech was planned out, it really was. It's just that seeing Damon sort of hits my reset button, and now I can't remember where exactly in my mind I formed the plan.

I wash myself again with bergamot-lemon scented soap over the vanilla, and then jump out of the shower so I can brush my teeth and gargle with mouthwash.

Damon gave me a long talk about Stefan this afternoon, explaining exactly why he thinks Stefan went wrong after his transition, and what I should try to say and do. It was really sweet, actually, because Damon pretends to be so aloof and definitely not interested in analyzing anything.

But he knows everything about his brother. Every fear, hope, dream, fault and virtue, and he cataloged them all objectively, ruthlessly, and without artifice. Even though I'd told Damon I loved him, that I wanted to be with him, I wouldn't have been surprised if he tried to make his brother look bad a little bit, but hearing Damon talk about all of the things that are good in Stefan made me fall in love with both of them all over again.

I stop in my frenzied race to get ready and look at myself in the mirror. The Salvatore brothers are the two most lovable, selfless, absolutely fascinating people I've met in my entire, short life. If I'm not going to be Katherine, if I am going to do right by both of them, I need to shake the hormones out of my brain and concentrate.

Stefan's been tearing himself apart at the seams for 150 years. I have a chance, a window of opportunity to make a difference to him and to everyone that comes after today in his life. I have a chance to make a difference for the woman he'll someday fall in love with. The woman who will replace me in his heart.

Am I ready to be replaced? It's wrong, but I love that I'm important to Stefan, love that I'm who he comes to for help when he can't do something on his own. I love that after all the times he comforted me, I have something to offer him.

I want to be the one who helps him find peace. It's selfish. It's not altruistic at all. I want him to be happy, but that dark, farthest back corner in my brain wants to be part of his happiness. I would give him up entirely to be with Damon, but I don't want to. I don't _want_ to have to do that.

I meet my own eyes in the mirror. They are plain and brown and they look too young. I can't be just eighteen today. I need a lot more years behind me to do what needs to be done.

I move fast.

When Stefan knocks on the door three minutes later, I am dressed, armed and just coming off the stairs.

I open the door, and the smile falters on my lips. He looks ok, but…not.

His skin has just the slightest hint of grey beneath it. He doesn't meet my eyes.

"Stefan. Come in," I invite, wondering if he needs that reinforcement.

"I just came to say goodbye. I am leaving town."

"Why would you do that?"

Has he found out about Damon and me somehow? Did something else happen?

He looks up, pained. "So I won't hurt you, of course."

I almost tell him that he won't hurt me, and then I toughen up. "So you can hurt other people? Not gonna happen, Stefan." I grab his arm and haul him inside.

He's so surprised he forgets not to meet my eyes.

"Look, quitting human blood isn't going to fix you."

His head snaps back as if I've hit him. It's a reaction he picked up from Damon, I recognize now.

"What are you talking about, Elena? Almost every bad thing I've ever done in my life I've done while drinking human blood."

"True." I cross my arms. "But if you don't learn to control your reaction to human blood, you're weak, Stefan."

Hurt takes up residence behind the guilt in his expression.

I should have made Damon do this. I don't have the stomach for it.

"If you are weak," I continue. "Anyone can control you. Anyone can own you."

His gaze slides away and I move toward him, crowding him into looking at me again. "_Klaus_ can own you. And if he owns you, eventually nothing of who you once were will remain. It's not enough to get off the human blood, Stefan, because all that stuff is still inside of you, waiting to be released."

"Don't you think I _know _that, Elena?" he asks me, his voice rising. "I'm like a bomb, waiting to go off. That's why I'm leaving town. I can't control it. Even now, I just fed and all I have to do is _smell _you and I can't stand it.

"You can control it. You just don't like what you'll have to do," I tell him. "Because you want to give into it. You love the rush. You love being out of control and you _love _punishing your better self by showing it just how evil you really are."

I walk forward, making him give way before me. "You can't give it up, because you've always known there was something dark in you, something wrong, and when your father found out you were a vampire and turned on you, you had your answer."

I should be ruthless when I say this, to force him to listen to me, but the truth in it is too hard to take and my voice breaks before I finish. I stop and my shoulders slump.

"Stefan, you can't keep doing this."

"Really, Elena? What other choice do I have? I can't go anywhere where this doesn't follow me. There's no switch I can flip to turn it off, and there sure isn't a switch I can turn off to make myself not care that I'm doing it!"

I don't know what to say. I'm forgetting my script.

"Do you realize that after Klaus compelled me, I could still see what I was doing? I had no reaction to it, I made choices I never would have made, but I could_ see_ what I was doing. I knew, intellectually, what it meant. I knew I'd have to pay for it later." His voice drops.

"I knew what I was doing to you. I _knew _what the result would be and I couldn't stop. So I don't know what easy fix you think I can make so that I'm _functional _and _happy _and so that I _don't want to kill anyone," _he's shouting so loudly I take a step back without meaning to. "But you're fooling yourself if you think I haven't tried everything under the sun!"

My chin comes up in defiance and I turn and walk away from him, going into the living room, plopping down on the couch, and putting my feet up.

Stefan just stands there for a moment before following me.

"Sit down, Stefan."

"Look, Elena, being close to you isn't a great idea right now. The bloodlust is making my skin crawl, like I want to-,"

"Sit _down_, Stefan!" I interrupt, putting some steel in my voice.

He does, looking at me with a half-puzzled, half-frantic expression.

"You need to relax, not get worked up." I nod at the coffee table. "Put your feet up."

He appears extremely dubious of this approach.

"Do you want my help or not?"

He puts his feet up, but he is the least relaxed person I have ever seen.

"I've talked to a few vampires now about what happened when they transitioned, how they handled the bloodlust, what helped them and what didn't. I've been kind of researching it since you left town," I tell him, my voice softening now that he's seated.

I want him a little angry, because he needs to fight back instead of just giving up on himself, but I also want him to see that if he calms down, so does the bloodlust. Predators feed off of the adrenaline of the hunt.

"When you first turned, you were all or nothing. You were either completely the Ripper with no conscience," he avoids my eyes but I plow on, "or you were on animal blood and hating yourself for what you'd done. Stefan," I reach forward and touch his arm softly.

"The reason you've never learned to control it is that you've never tried to make your peace with the fact that wanting to drink human blood is a part of you and that's ok. You have to live with it, _in_ it. If you hate it and are either all the way on or off, it will always control you."

"Who told you that, Damon?" he scoffs. "That sounds like the kind of ambiguous morality that he loves. It's ok to drink from humans, you should like it. Guess what, Elena? I can't stop myself from draining them dry when I want to stop more than anything in the world. When it is _you_ I'm draining. It's not going to help me to weaken what motivation I have."

"That's exactly the problem," I say. "You feel too strongly about it. Your emotions only heighten the bloodlust. Hatred feeds it as much as love. You have to accept it, be neutral to its existence. It is part of your nature, Stefan. You're not a human. And yes, Damon did help me understand that." I squeeze Stefan's arm, wishing he'd look at me.

"You know your brother is never going to be able to do the heart-to-heart thing with you. But he wants to help you. He loves you so much, Stefan. I don't think you have any idea how much."

He laughs bitterly. "Enough to try to steal my girl when I was at my lowest?"

"Enough to help me try to find you? Enough to hide all the bodies so that you wouldn't get caught?"

"He did that to get to you, not to help me," Stefan complains.

"Don't be petty, Stefan," I say coldly. "You have _no idea_ the sacrifices he's made for you. He walked into a whole forest of werewolves for you."

Stefan's face doesn't change.

"I watched him suffer excruciating pain for hours when Tyler bit him and believe me when I say I know he was scared to get close to a single werewolf again. But he never hesitated. When we came to Chicago to try to get you back, he helped me pick out clothes so I would look beautiful. So that you'd love me enough to come back," my voice breaks and I have to look away and blink quickly to get rid of the tears.

I don't know what upsets me more: that it didn't work, because Stefan didn't love me enough to leave, or the knowledge of how Damon must have felt that night.

Stefan sighs. "I'm sorry, Elena. You're right. We have a long history, Damon and I, and it makes it difficult to be objective where he's concerned. Especially lately."

Especially because of me, that's what he means. I am not thinking about the foyer table. I'm not, because if I do, I'll blush.

"Why are you blushing?"

"Because you and Damon are fighting because of me," I say quickly, meeting his eyes and letting myself focus only on the truth in those words. "And I hate it."

"We were fighting long before you came around. He's wanted me dead more often than he's wanted me alive. I'm surprised he hasn't finished me off yet."

"Oh, because he hasn't had any opportunities?" I snap. "He would have killed any other person in the world for hurting me the way you've hurt me. _Any_ other person, Stefan. Klaus, Elijah. He wouldn't care if it wasn't a fight he could win. He's not afraid of you, he _loves _you. More than he loves me, even, or you'd be dead." I shouldn't have said that. It is only going to make things worse.

"Look, Stefan, this isn't about Damon. This is about you," I say wearily. "This is all just proving my point. Look, Elijah is the one who told me all this. He told me that's how he learned self-control. By not having any emotional reaction to his bloodlust, he was able to learn to objectively control it. He drank a cup of blood right in front of me after being un-daggered and his fangs never even descended. Seems like it works for him."

"Why are you hanging out with Elijah, anyway?" Stefan asked. "He was a safer bargaining chip when he was still in the coffin."

That's right, Stefan still didn't know about the plan. He didn't know why we'd un-daggered Elijah, just that Damon had gone behind his back to do it. I'm amazed that we've managed to keep it a secret from him for so long.

"Elijah's my friend. We got kind of close when we were planning to kill Klaus last time," I say, going for the half-truth. Hanging out with vampires has made me such a liar.

"He betrayed us."

"For his brother," I look at him pointedly. "I can't really fault him for that, you know?"

Stefan's pensively silent.

"Elena, I'm trying to see things from your point of view," he says after a while. "I mean, you're right. My way hasn't worked. But it seems like you're saying that I should just be okay with what I've done. I can't do that. And I can't just accept that being a vampire and feeding off people is acceptable."

"Actually, Stefan, you already have," I remind him. "When you helped Caroline adjust, you told her there was no conflict between being a good person and being a vampire. You are harder on yourself than on anyone else, but you don't actually believe that it can't be done." I let that sink in. "What did you tell Caroline about how to control her bloodlust?"

"I told her to calm down, to breath deeply and believe in herself," Stefan answered, sounding frustrated.

I wait expectantly.

Stefan has the grace to smile. "I walked right into that, didn't I?"

I smile too, and let it all sink in for another moment.

"You came to me for help because you know I can forgive you for what you've done," I say quietly. Stefan's brow furrows as he listens.

"Because even though I don't condone the killing, and I would never want that for you, or for any of your victims, I don't despair of you because of it. You came to _me_ for that but I can't do it for you. It won't work."

He opens his mouth but I hold up a hand. "You have to forgive _yourself_, Stefan. You can't live on my forgiveness. You'll only put me on a pedestal and hate yourself all the more."

He's shaking his head ever so slightly, so I keep going. "That's why the switch was never all the way on or off. It isn't a switch, Stefan. It isn't two people. It's you."

His chin drops toward his chest and I can see the tension in his shoulders as he grapples with the idea.

"I love you anyway, Stefan," I tell him. "I wish you would be able to do the same."

He leans into me, his hand reaching to touch my cheek.

_Oh shoot, I really should have seen this coming!_

I stop him with a hand on his chest and fix him with an earnest look. "Stefan, this isn't about me and you. It can't be. You have to believe it for yourself. You have to change for yourself."

He pulls back, looking hurt, his fists clenching and releasing.

"I don't think you realize how _hard_ it is, Elena," he finally says, anguish written in every line of his body.

I take his hand and squeeze.

"Of course it's hard, Stefan. Everything is. _Everything_ is."

**DAMON POV**

I'm standing in front of the fireplace at the boarding house, on my fourth bourbon of the last hour. I've spent the whole time alternating between smugly replaying my time with Elena and worrying about how things are going at her house.

She has my blood so she'll heal if anything happens, but that doesn't mean I'm okay with Stefan hurting her. I don't think he will. I grip the mantle over the fireplace.

He might. He could.

The old, well-polished wood creaks in protest and I let go before I ruin it.

I toss back the rest of the bourbon without enjoying it, a waste of a good 25-year-old bottle. I hear just the whisper of a sound and check over my shoulder on the way back to the stand of decanters.

Stefan's leaning against the doorway, wearing one of his childish hoodies, staring at me. There's no blood on his clothes.

I turn back to the decanters and do my best to cut off that line of thought. If he'd hurt her, he wouldn't just stand there. He'd either be laughing like the Joker in Batman or begging me to kill him.

I splash two fingers from a younger bottle of Scotch into my glass. I haven't heard Stefan move yet. I add another two fingers.

I shake my ass a little. "Like what you see?" I turn around so I can get his reaction but he's still looking at me with his solemn Stefan face. Not his suicidal one, so that's good, or the pissed off one. To be honest, I don't recognize this expression. Or the strange light in his eyes.

Stefan smiles. It's sad, as usual, but it's something else, too.

He nods to me then walks to his room.

I throw my hands out to the sides, sloshing my drink a little.

"What the fuck?"

He doesn't answer.

I take my glass and walk outside, hiking it all the way to the end of the long driveway before I call Elena.

"How are you?" I ask without preamble.

"I'm fine, Damon. Didn't have to break into the armory or anything."

"What did you _do_ to him?" I ask. "He just got back, and-well, yeah."

"I fixed him," she says with a long, tired sigh. "As much as anyone can. I showed him the door, and he can walk through it if he believes in it enough. I couldn't have done it without you, without your insight."

"Dr. Damon to the rescue," I say lightly. "Speaking of, do you wanna play doctor later?"

She laughs softly. "I could use it. I'm exhausted from that. Have you seen him? How is he?"

"Weird," I say with emphasis, wrinkling my brow in the direction of the house. "You must have told him some pretty lies about me, because he gave me this look when he got back, like an 1863 special."

"I didn't tell him anything but the truth," she says. "You're a good brother. He's lucky to have you, and he knows it."

I snort quietly. "Right. Let's talk more about this playing doctor stuff. You free later?"

"You know I am," her voice warms to mine. "One thing, Damon."

"Hmmm?"

"I want you to let him in on the plan."

"You must be kidding," I say flatly.

"He needs _something_, Damon. And you know how much he hates Klaus. Plus, he started this thing with the coffins. He ought to help us finish it."

I frown at my driveway. She has changed, lately. I'm not sure I know where this latest request comes from. Maybe she thinks Stef and I will be safer if we have each other, despite the evidence. Maybe she is just trying to give him a purpose. I don't believe for a second she blames him for getting us into this mess.

The hell of it is, I kind of agree with her. I remember when Stefan used to look at me like he just did, when I taught him to fish and swim and ride and how to cop an inconspicuous feel when you were waltzing with a pretty girl.

I'd love to see what he thinks about my new plan. It's daring enough to be mine, cautious enough to be Stefan's, crazy enough to be Elena's. I like it. I'd like it better if I could rely on my brother again.

"Yeah." I say into the phone. "I'll do that. Call me later?"

"Why don't you just come over? I'll be home whenever you can get away. I mean, if you want to."

"Sure. Sometime later, then," I say, and hang up before my grin can creep into my voice. I whistle all the way back to the boarding house.

* * *

_Author's Note: Sorry to everybody that wanted Stefan to walk in on them! I do love Stefan too, just not for Elena... Thanks for all the answers to the poll. I wish CWS was as creative as you all!_


	24. Grace

_The soundtrack for this chapter is "Theme for Scotland" Alasdair Fraser- Take a second to start it up- this chapter without music is like a car without tires. _

_youtube__ dot com /watch?v=e_2f55pGqAI_

* * *

**ELENA POV**

Elijah picks me up when it is still full dark. I move down the stairs of my empty house in response to his knock, turning off lights as I go. I hate living alone. I hate the echoing quiet of this house, memories layered upon memories in every room.

When I open the door, Elijah hands me an impeccably brewed espresso in a travel mug that oozes elegance. To some people, being immortal probably means not having to settle for plastic travel mugs.

We don't make small talk on the drive, though he asks after my health, which is weird but polite.

I worry that I should have told Damon what I was doing. I'm hoping discretion is the better part of honesty in this case. It scares him enough, I know, to have me hanging out with Stefan. I think a sunrise-watching session with Elijah would sound so romantic that he'd either lock me in the basement or smirk himself to death by shooting off one snarky comment after another until I strangled him.

Elijah parks the car at the top of a bluff overlooking the river. I've been here before, to make out in Matt's old pickup two lifetimes ago. He brings a blanket and a small bag and guides me carefully over the uneven terrain in the dark.

"I brought music," he said. As he spreads the blanket and sets up the iPod speakers, I get uneasy. This is remarkably date-like.

He looks up at me. I can see his brow crease. "You're uncomfortable. I'm sorry."

He takes a step back from me, though he wasn't close before. "I forget sometimes that not everyone is as casual as this age would suggest. I didn't intend to press anything. Do you want to go back?"

"No, no I'm fine," I protest, and then relent. "It's a little intimate, I guess. But it's okay. I trust you."

Something moves very subtly in the lines of his face and he nods formally. Damon would be proud. I've somehow stumbled upon the perfect thing to say. He'll never dare lay a hand on me now, though I sincerely doubt he was actually planning to. I'm still a little uneasy that this is some kind of cheating, but the seduction was Damon's idea, so he'll have to deal with it.

Still, the sight of ancient Elijah sitting cross-legged on the ground with iPod speakers is charming, so I make myself comfortable and sip espresso while he looks at his watch and studies the sky. Finally, he seems satisfied and he pushes a button to start the iPod.

Violins come from the speaker, but not sad ones. Smooth and beautiful, lifting upward.

Elijah leans back on one elbow and watches the sky with a smile of such unselfconscious enjoyment that I find myself smiling with him.

The light starts out grey, then white. It feels as if the violins are calling the sun upward, bewitching it into the sky.

The light tints pale yellow progressing to orange, then darkening to red along the whole horizon line. Just as the fire of the sun peeks over, bagpipes come in, weaving through the violin. Elijah timed it perfectly.

The music becomes more complex, dipping in lament before rising again, the sadness expanding the tones until it feels three dimensional. As if, despite the tiny speakers, the music is weaving around us in the damp dawn light. It is rising again, each peak more intensely beautiful, each return to lament more poignant.

It's my life. Such happiness mixed with suffering, each higher peak paired with a lower drop, always rising again, always falling again.

Maybe it is the pairing with the sunrise, the challenge of hope mixed with terrible possibility. Today can bring so many things. Our plan to kill Klaus goes into motion today.

Maybe it is the exquisite combination of visual and auditory beauty. Maybe it is the man next to me, whom I somehow know without asking appreciates all the subtle shadings of this moment. Or the fact that I can sit next to him, blessedly free of any sexual tension, and just enjoy the morning.

Whatever it is, I realize that I'm smiling, and the sun is almost halfway risen before I notice that my cheeks are wet with tears as well. For once, I don't mind.

The sun rises until the full, burning ball of it hovers just over the horizon as the music fades away. If this were a normal date, this would be the perfect moment to kiss the girl.

Neither of us think to move. We sit together and watch the sun glide into the sky. After a while, I turn to him.

"Thank you. Thank you for this."

He meets my eyes, and his face is solemn, but pleased. "You're very welcome."

I turn back to the sunrise and my mind is quiet, the kind of silence that Elijah once spoke of. The kind that sings.

After a time we both stand and I take the speakers while he folds the blanket. We walk back to the car and by the time we get there, I know I'm not going to be able to do it.

I turn to him, biting my lip. Damon is going to murder me.

"Elijah, there's something I have to tell you."

He places the blanket in the trunk. "Yes?"

"Damon asked me, I mean, we planned together. He thought-," I hate myself so much right now. How could I have gone along with this? Is this the kind of person I am now? That I would trick someone into doing something so dangerous?

Elijah shuts the trunk gently and turns toward me. His hands rest in front of him, one wrist clasping the other in a posture only he could make look comfortable.

I take a breath. I have to say this. Doing it wasn't right, but admitting to it is all I can do now. I can stop this.

"Damon thought you would be more likely to help us if I spent time with you, if I was kind to you." I am such a slut. Slut. Slut. Slut.

I make myself look him in the eye when I say it. "If I- seduced you. Kind of." I can't maintain the eye contact for a second more.

"I suspected," he says calmly.

"I am so sorry," I burst out. "You can leave town. There's still time. We'll still give you your family's remains, obviously, although it would be nice if you could talk Rebekah out of killing me. If you didn't already have a grudge against Klaus, I would have never dreamed of asking you- but no, it's still wrong. That doesn't excuse anything. I'm so sorry, Elijah."

"It doesn't change anything. I will still stay and do my duty, as I intended. Despite-," he pauses for a beat, two. "Everything that means. Duty is not meant to be pleasant but I _will _do it. For my own reasons, and also for you."

"What? Why? I would never- I never really meant to ask you to. I don't know why I went along with it at all."

"To save your young men from my brother's vengeance, no doubt." He nods. "It is understandable."

He smiles gently. "I know you would never ask me or anyone to die for you." He tilts his head. "And that is why people do. I'm glad I got the chance to spend time with you, Elena. You have a beauty that the lovely Katerina could never match. Appropriate, I suppose, for the Eve of a new race. Nonetheless, it is profane to use a woman's powers of creation against her will."

I don't know what to say. A lump is rising in my throat. For whatever Stefan says about me, I can't even wrap my mind around forgiveness like this.

He is still wearing that slight, beautiful smile. "Thank you."

"What can you_ possibly_ have to thank me for?"

"For bringing further purpose to that duty, so that I can _feel _that it is right as well as simply knowing. For lending grace to a brutal act."

Elijah walks around and opens my car door for me, and there's nothing to do but get into the car. I have nothing to say that could possibly be equal to the gravity of his words, his actions.

I have tears in my eyes and I don't know what to say. I can't let this plan go forward. I can't let these three men anywhere near evil like Klaus. God, has anything ever been so wrong?

* * *

_Author's Note: I hope at least someone loved this chapter as much as I did. Elijah hasn't gotten much screen time in this one, but he totally snatched my heart in this chapter. Fortunately, Elena is still firmly Team Damon. Please leave me a review and let me know if this chapter touched you or left you kind of neutral. _


	25. Jerry Springer Show

**ELENA POV**

* * *

I ask Elijah to drop me off at the boarding house because I can't even wait long enough to go home and get my car. I have to call off the plan.

I let myself in through the front door that they never bother to lock and take the stairs two at a time.

Damon is still in bed, but awake, probably because he heard my footsteps. He's shirtless, his hands laced casually behind his head. He's wearing a confident smirk that doesn't make it all the way to his eyes.

"Miss me?"

I drop my purse and don't even unbutton my coat before I straddle him in bed. My hands spearing into his hair, I pull him up to me and kiss him with all the ferocity of my resolve. There is nothing on earth or in heaven that could compel me to put this man in danger.

I feel his smile turn genuine before he kisses me back, his body already responding to mine.

"Well, good morning to you, too."

The way he kisses me back belies the playful tone of his voice. His mouth is needy in a way he never allows his voice to be. He rolls us over, the sheets tangling around his legs as he props his elbows on either side of my head and bends to taste me, achingly sweet and urgent.

Two tears that I've been holding back streak down my cheeks and mingle with our kisses. Damon pulls back, searching my eyes.

"Hey, easy there," he says lightly. "What's wrong?"

"I love you. God, I love you so much, Damon Salvatore." I pull him back to me, but his kiss is half-distracted now.

"That's not anything to cry about. Not anymore, anyway," he murmurs, smoothing the teardrop away with his thumb.

I pull away and stand up. "Get dressed. I need to talk to you and Stefan."

His eyes go distant and it hurts like he punched me. I go back and kiss him again, even harder, crushing him against me. "Don't you ever listen to me?"

"Get dressed. Drama to ensue. Gotcha." His tone is the same, but the hurt has faded from his eyes. He believes me again, for now. I have the feeling it is going to take a long time to convince him of how much I really care, but I've got years yet. I hope.

I take the stairs two at a time and hurry to the hallway outside Stefan's room. He probably heard me come in, but I don't know if his hearing is good enough to know that I went to his brother's room first since it is in a separate wing. It can't be helped now.

"Stefan? Are you in there?"

He comes to the door, still buttoning his jeans. He's shirtless too, the rose tattoo on his shoulder rippling with the movement. His shoulders are bigger than they used to be. The human blood, probably. Gallons of it. My stomach twists a little and I hope he doesn't see it in my eyes.

"Can you come downstairs, please? I need to talk to you."

He nods, his green eyes concerned, with an intimacy that makes me remember that this bedroom is familiar to me, that it is the place where I used to spend my time in this house.

I head downstairs, still riding the wave of my certainty. I'll need all the conviction I can muster if I am going to convince these two of anything.

Stefan is there first, but Damon saunters in a moment later. He's barefoot and wearing a dark blue shirt, but hasn't bothered to button it. For once, I'm not distracted (much) by the sight of his chest.

"The plan is off," I say, pacing. "We can't do it. Klaus is too dangerous and there is no way I'm risking any of you on him. We'll run. Katherine's done it successfully for half a millennium. It has to be possible. We'll hide the coffins around the world for leverage and we'll go."

I don't want to admit it, but I was really counting on Elijah to kill Klaus. Or at least slow him down. Now, every outcome I imagine seems too risky, too dangerous. I don't have anything more to lose than I did last week, but it feels like I do.

Damon settles onto the couch and puts one foot up on the table, his arms stretched out on the back of the couch. With a bedhead that looks artfully touseled and dark, low-slung jeans, he looks like a Vanity Fair photographer posed him there. "Somebody had a Red Bull this morning to wash down her crazy pills. What are you talking about, Elena? Did you only now realize this was kinda risky?"

Stefan looks far more concerned. He can tell how serious I am, and I think he senses that I am not just willing to make sacrifices to do the right thing this time.

This time, I'm willing to do the wrong thing. I can be as cruel, as evil and Machiavellian as Klaus himself to stop this from happening. I'm willing to burn churches and kidnap orphans. This time, my will is going to prevail.

Stefan steps forward and his voice is given depth by the sorrow he wears like a lead cloak. "It's wrong, Elena. We can't just stand by, even if Klaus wouldn't kill us as soon as he got the chance. 'For God did not hold his angels back but sent them out to _fight_.'"

I don't know if he's quoting the Bible or something else, but I don't care.

"Preach it, Father Salvatore!" Damon crows. "I love it when he gets all holy. He was supposed to be a priest, you know? Perfect name and all." He leans forward and flares his eyes conspiratorially. "_That_ turned out well."

I glare at him, distracted despite myself. "Damon, don't be cruel."

He smirks. "Actually, baby bro, you would have made a perfect Catholic priest. Guilt, check, stupidly rigid moral standards, also check. You don't like little boys, but I suppose that could also be a point in your favor."

I ignore him. "I'm not going to let you do it. You have no idea how destructive I can be if I want to."

Damon rolls his eyes. "Haven't we had this conversation already? We're nice, sturdy vampires. Good at _killing_ things," he says with deliberate emphasis. "Tell her, Stef."

"Would you set him loose upon the world, Elena?" Stefan asks, crossing the room toward me and tilting his head with those eyes slicing at my selfish resolve. He probably doesn't know it, but those eyes make you want to be good.

"Would you, really? Save the ones you love at the expense of everyone else he will hurt if we let him live? With his own army of hybrids?"

"Ooh, good one," Damon agrees, nodding once at his brother. "What he said."

Stefan is on a different track from Damon, but one far more crafted to actually convince me. I feel a dull pain in my chest when I think that he knows me so well. I won't be able to be close to him again in the future, not the way I once was.

We used to talk about everything; about God and family and what life was all about. No matter how I spin it, I won't be able to keep him in my life in any comfortable way. I will never be able to lie on the spring grass beside him again and laugh. But I might be able to save his life. I fought hard for his sanity two nights ago and I'll fight just as hard for his life. Even if he has to hate me in the end.

"Yes, Stefan," I say. "I would."

"What, and leave Elijah here to have all the fun?" Damon complains. "Uh-uh, no way."

Tears leap into my eyes again and I round on him furiously. "You don't know him. He is _not_ our sacrifice. He's not going to be anyone's sacrifice."

Damon throws up his hands. "Great. Saint Elena. I should have known better. Of _course_ you would set the bait free before we caught a fish."

His eyes narrow and I turn away, annoyed.

Damon catches my arm and turns me back toward him. "Did he kiss you? Is that what this is about?"

"No." I tear my arm free. "He was a perfect gentleman."

"So you had an attack of conscience," Damon sighs, flopping back down on the couch and rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"No," I say coldly. "I had an attack of sanity. None of the three of you are going anywhere near Klaus."

"Elena," Stefan says patiently. "It has to be done. You know what he's capable of. Do you think he's really just going to walk away after what Damon and I have done to him? And you'll never be free of him as long as you live. Do you want to be his servant forever?" His jaw tightens. "Trust me, it isn't a pleasant position to be in."

"Does it, Stefan?" I ask him. "Does it really have to be done?"

I know they're never going to listen to me. If I want them to stay out of this, I am going to have to force them.

Suddenly I know how Damon feels when he goes off the deep end. I feel totally calm and utterly unhinged at the same time. I know how to stop this and I _am_ capable of it, damn the consequences.

"You think you know so much, Stefan?" I ask him dangerously, moving closer.

"Well, how about this? I'm never going to be with you again because _I'm in love with your brother!_" By the end of the sentence, my voice is a howl. I scream it into his face and he jerks back, his eyes wide.

That gets Damon off the couch. He plucks me off the ground and swings me around behind him, away from Stefan.

"Wow, Gilbert, really?" he asks. "Are you out of your fucking mind? What, because the Ripper is going to be so useful?"

"No." Stefan's eyes clear and that almost hurts more. Because he knows me too well. By the time this is over, we are going to be even for Wickery Bridge in terms of deliberate cruelty.

"Damon, don't listen to anything she says today," he instructs, eyes narrowing. "She's trying to make me angry so I will take off and let Klaus have her. I don't know what she's going to say to you, but _something_."

"No, Stefan," I say, keeping my voice soft because I am a heartless, brilliant bitch and I know if I'm gentle, he'll believe me.

I try to step around Damon, but the most he'll allow is for me to look past him to Stefan. "It's true. I shouldn't have said it that way. I meant to tell you at the right time, but you deserve to know." The truth burns my throat like battery acid. I should crumple under the weight of my sins.

"I wanted to help you get off the blood, to find the life you deserve, because I love you. I care about you so much but I'm never going to be with you again and it isn't because of what you have done or anything that you are or aren't. It just is."

I put my hand on Damon's shoulder and Stefan twitches as if he's gotten an electric shock. I know he can see the connection between us. I know he can see the truth.

"Elena," Damon sing-songs between clenched teeth. "This is not going to make him less violent!"

Stefan takes one step forward and he looks closely at me. I can't move, so I have to watch his heart shatter. It is all pain and disappointment, and then it is like the moment when he came back to the boarding house after he fed on me. Everything that is Stefan disappears from his eyes.

His eyes move to Damon's for just a second and I think they might fight but then there's a breeze and Stefan is nowhere.

My hand goes to my stomach, my body curving forward, hunching against the pain that arrives like a blow.

"Wow." Damon says, half-admiringly. "That really takes the medal for plan ruining. And we've got some stiff competition for that award in these parts. C'mere," he says, opening his arms and pulling me absently against his chest, resting his chin on my head.

I move back after only a second, my nerves still jangling with urgency. I don't have time to think about what I've done, or to wonder why Damon isn't angry that I've messed up his plan. I need that silver dagger.

"Where are you going?" he asks as I take off toward the stairs. "Oh, wait, exactly how do you think-."

That's all the longer it takes for him to catch on.

"You're going to try and dagger Elijah, aren't you? Elena, don't be stupid," he groans. "That's never going to work. You don't even know where I hid the dagger."

"Weapons display in the second floor study?" I toss over my shoulder.

He catches me around the waist and for all my energy, I make zero headway in getting loose. "And then what? Nail me with a vervain syringe when I'm not looking? Please. I've seen that episode. _Not _happening."

I don't bother to argue with him until he waggles a syringe in front of my face. "Left your purse in my room," he says. Which means he figured out why I was here before he even came downstairs.

I don't care. I'll just get another one.

"Elena, you kind of know we can't release Klaus, right? Stefan was right."

"I know that. I don't care, Damon," I tell him sharply. "I've had enough of sacrificing good people to the cause of stopping evil. Screw evil. It can keep being evil without us."

"Um, in point of fact it can't, Elena. You're kind of the mommy hybrid, much as I hate to say it."

"Even if we forget that Klaus will never stop trying to kill Stefan and me after this, or the fact that he wants to use you, um, forever, he's really a dick, Elena. The kind of dick who could put Stalin to shame if he felt like it."

A buzzing noise interrupts Damon and he answers the phone.

"Jerry Springer Show."

I try to yank free again and get nowhere.

"No, Elijah, it's a joke about a television show. Nope, not important." He listens for a second.

"You are correct. She is off the reservation and may have already triggered a multiple state killing spree. I figure by afternoon we should be all the way up to worldwide crisis of some kind," he says cheerfully. "Yeah, unfortunately, she's usually like this. Risk-averse and all that. Women."

I consider biting him.

"Uh-huh. Right. I will let her know. Nope, but thanks for the offer. Don't want to babysit, do you?" Damon chuckles humorlessly, losing some of his good spirits. "Actually, never mind. Think I've got another idea."

He hangs up. "If I let you go are you gonna get all crazy?"

I don't answer. He lets me go anyway, which is annoying because we both know he could catch me again with no trouble.

I glare at him. He smiles unrepentantly.

"Elijah says hi. Says he thinks you might do something nuts to try to derail the plan, and to tell you he's gonna rip Klaus's heart out no matter what you do," Damon recites like a kid with a boring lesson. "I think there were a few more pleases and thank you's in there, though. He's such a stuffed shirt."

There's a blur and his head wrenches with a terrible crack.

"Damon?" I say, reaching for him.

A second later, I hit the floor under his weight as he falls dead in my arms.

* * *

_Author's Note: I know you won't believe this, but this hurts me as much as it hurts you: I'm leaving town again, on a river trip, so no internet access. It's going to be about a week before I can post again, so hit the button to follow story/author, because you don't want to miss the end to this story. It is brutal and beautiful. There's vicious fighting, including Elena kicking some ass, multiple character deaths, sweet Delena, steamy Delena, and some brotherly bonding, appealingly-dysfunctional-Salvatore-style. _

_In the meantime, check out my other story: Sanguine Veritas, which is a spin-off of the blood sharing scene in 04x02 Memorial, and is intense enough to hold you over for a week at least. If I'm wrong, and you still need more reading material, try my brand-new novel on Amazon. "Becoming Katelyn" by Michelle Hazen._


	26. Moment of Truth

_Author's Note: Just a reminder on chronology. This spin-off started after Klaus's adoptive father, Michael was killed, but before his mother, Ester, got brought back to life out of the mystery coffin. Klaus has Rebekah daggered, but Stefan has Klaus's three coffins: his two brothers, Finn and Kol, and the mystery coffin. He's still holding the coffins hostage. Stefan is free of Klaus's compulsion and trying to get off human blood again. With Season 4 starting, it's easy to get confused. Also, with Season 4, can someone please give me any hope that anything new and interesting will happen?_

* * *

When Damon's neck snapped, I felt everything that was _him_ drain away. What is left is just a pretty shell and it isn't enough. A year ago, I would have gone to pieces. I would have screamed and cried and whoever just killed him would have made quick work of me.

I'm not that girl anymore.

I catch Damon as best I can, lowering him to the floor. It may not be graceful but it will at least save him more injuries to heal from later. Under the cover of his dead body, I steal the syringe of vervain that Damon took from my purse.

Then and only then do I go totally berserker crazy. My head knows he'll heal but my heart wants me to bite the face off whoever was stupid enough to try to take him from me. I pull myself out from under Damon and turn on his assailant.

It is a woman, a redheaded vampire with more lipstick than class. Every lesson Ric has ever taught me is queued up in my frontal lobe, itching to be released on this bitch who used my shouting as cover to sneak up on Damon.

I aim a chop at her throat, twist back to smash my elbow into her cheekbone, and follow with a knee to the nerve cluster just inside the hipbone.

She blocks everything but she doesn't fight back, so I front-kick to her stomach and try a combination of punches to get to her face. Her speed trumps anything I've ever learned, and the combination of adrenaline and hatred that is driving me falls maddeningly short.

I drop low for a lunging side-kick to her knee and when she bends to stop me I dive with my whole body for her throat.

I knock her flat on her back and choke her with every ounce of my inadequate strength, digging my fingernails into her resilient flesh, kneeing her stomach and ribs and anything else I can reach.

It takes her longer than it should to pry me off, because I am a clawing, screaming ball of fury and I want her blood on my hands.

She pins me face down on the floor and sits on me, holding my wrists with one irritatingly strong vampire hand. I'm still kicking whatever part of her I can reach and she tries to fend off my feet while she makes a call.

"Your hybridmaker is totally out of her mind-," she stiffens as whoever she called cuts her off.

It must be Klaus. God, could he stay out of my life for five minutes?

"I'm sorry. No, of course not. I was wondering if I could at least knock her out so she doesn't hurt herself. Right. Uh-huh. No, of course I can-, yes I'll do that." The vampire hangs up and squeezes my hands painfully, bones grinding together in warning.

"Listen to me, you crazy slut. Klaus says if you give me any trouble, he'll let me do to your boyfriend what I would normally do to you in retaliation. So unless you want him to wake up half the man he used to be, you'd better start _meekly_ cooperating. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I spit the word at the carpet. "I understand that by the end of the day, your heart is going to be on the floor."

"Well, you can't do it, and he's pretty dead at the moment," the vampire says, unimpressed.

She lets me go. I get up and glare at her but I don't attack. I'm not wasting my one weapon on her and I obviously can't beat her in a fair fight. I knew that. I was just angry.

She hoists Damon over her shoulder. It is weird to see how easily she can carry him. She gestures impatiently for me to go ahead and herds me outside to her car.

Klaus only sent one vampire after us? After we killed nine at my house the other night? What new game is he playing?

I still have my phone, and I might be able to call someone while the vampire is distracted by driving. I doubt she expects me to try anything. I agonize over whether to try Stefan or Elijah, but in the end Stefan has a speed dial icon on my phone and I am trying to be quiet. Are these the tiny things that tip fate, that lives are lost for?

It doesn't matter, because as soon as I unlock the touch screen, the redhead reaches back and snatches my phone, rolling her eyes at me impatiently. She drops the phone out the window.

Out of options, I cradle Damon's body in the backseat of the car and wait for the moment when it heals enough that he comes back. I wonder where his spirit goes when this happens: if it is just quiet inside of his body or if he's briefly on the other side. I wonder if he'll see Rose there. If his parents are there or if humans go somewhere else.

My gut is a churning mess of relief and regret. I'm almost happy she took my phone before I could make the call. Saving all three of them might be impossible, and if I can't save them all, it would shred my sanity to have to choose who will die. I try not to think about it. Damon doesn't need me to angst right now. He needs me to be the better villain.

There will be all the long years of my life for regret, once this is over.

The vampire takes me to Klaus's mansion and carries Damon upstairs. She gestures to me to stay behind, but instead I try to punch her in the throat. I'm just sick to death of standing by and _allowing_ all of this.

Klaus catches me and holds my arms while the redhead takes Damon into another room and closes the door between us.

"Easy, love, you'll see him in a moment," Klaus says mildly.

I shake off Klaus's hands and glare, trying to think of something I have that I can bargain with.

"Tell me where the coffins are," he prompts. "I'll send you both home in a limousine with a healthy blonde to speed his recovery."

"If I knew where the coffins were, I'd have given them to you when you threatened Jeremy," I say with exasperation. "I gave you Rebekah, even though she wants me dead. Why are we still playing this game, Klaus? What is it you actually want?"

"I wish to punish Stefan for his crimes," he says in his insufferably aristocratic accent. His eyebrows flicker slightly. "Unfortunately, your place in my life makes that more complicated than it would normally be. Fear not, dear Elena. I have the capacity to overcome such an obstacle."

He turns toward the door and pauses before opening it. "Also, I doubt the elder Salvatore is quite as ignorant as you are about the whereabouts of my family."

I push past him through the door and my heart swells and breaks all at once.

Damon is awake and appears alert. But he's chained spread-eagled to a wooden X, with winches tied to each limb that connect to a central wheel that tightens them all. I've seen something like this before. On Braveheart. It was much less frightening to have Mel Gibson on the rack.

Damon's barefoot, still wearing his dark blue shirt open across his chest, in a gruesome mockery of how relaxed and safe he felt just this morning.

I fly across the room to Damon. The rack tilts him back a few degrees so that his weight drags at his wrists. I reach for the chains holding him but they are too high for me and padlocked around his wrists.

They are going to use those chains to stretch his beautiful body until it breaks.

Everything I know pours out of me in one breath. "I don't know where the coffins are. I saw Stefan this morning, but I made him mad and he took off. I doubt he's coming back."

Damon looks down at me with a half-fond, half-exasperated expression. "It's as if you don't have any faith in me, Elena. At least let us go a couple rounds for form's sake before you spill your guts."

I flatten my cheek against his bare chest, holding on to him as long as Klaus will let me. Even though I know things are about to get worse, it is nice having him back in his body instead of that terrible approximation of death.

I want to button his shirt over his chest, as if that will shield him.

"Damon, we all know you can withstand torture. You've done it dozens of times, you have nothing to prove. Can't we just skip it this time?"

"I don't know. It is kind of a comforting routine," he says. "Like cold beer on the porch in August, or stealing people's presents on Christmas. Right anti-Klaus?"

Klaus smiles tightly and takes my arm, pulling me away from Damon. He doesn't take being mocked particularly well.

As soon as he lets go, I'm back at the rack, dropping to my knees to try and find a way to release the ankle chains. They're padlocked, too.

Klaus grabs my arm, less careful this time, and drags me across the room to a chair.

"That's very _annoying_," Klaus says.

He catches me with his eyes. They're a weak, watered-down blue, but I still can't look away.

"When I tell you to, you will scream with all the pain and suffering you could ever imagine. And you will not approach Damon," he says in a disturbingly kind voice.

He looks away and I feel the fist in my brain relax for the moment. Damon has been nagging me to drink vervain, but I haven't had any since Stefan's visit two days ago. Too late now.

"Besides, you haven't even greeted your other friends yet. How rude."

I look around, and he's right. Bonnie and Caroline are bound to chairs. I had been holding out a little hope that Bonnie was still free, that she might sense what was going on and be able to take action. Now, I don't try to hide my dismay. Caroline offers me a tremulous smile. Bonnie looks focused and dangerous, but her eyes flick between Damon and me and then soften for a second in sympathy.

"Why are they here?" I round on Klaus.

"To lure Stefan back, of course. I've been holding off in respect of our business deal, but-," there are cracks in his polished façade, making his eyes shine with a terrible light. "I must have my family back. If Stefan is beyond being moved, then I will hurt people until you or Damon agrees to give me what I want. I haven't retrieved your brother from Colorado yet, but I can. We have time," he threatens.

I'm watching Klaus very carefully. These pieces aren't adding up. The vampires at my house were a half-assed attack. Sending one vampire after Damon this morning would never have worked if I hadn't been distracting him. The photo-shopped picture of Jeremy is the same pattern, as is the planned car crash. He could have easily forced Jeremy to stab himself and it would have been a much more certain death. Why was Klaus suddenly pulling his punches?

The fracturing light behind his eyes was more than fanaticism. What was bothering him? If I knew what it was, I might be able to turn it to my advantage. Vampires were faster than humans. Older. Usually more ruthless. But they weren't necessarily smarter.

Klaus runs one finger over the wheel that controls the rack. So many calamitous possibilities are contained within that finger. I can't take my eyes off it.

_Two out of three ain't bad. _ I remember Damon singing those words to me, teasing me about being upset that we hadn't killed three Originals at once. Now, Elijah didn't know what was going on, so he wasn't here. And I chased off Stefan. He was probably on a killing spree, each life lost my fault. I saved two, and I wouldn't take it back. But looking across the room at Damon, I can't help but think that I'm lucky no one is going to ask me to make a trade. Two for one.

Because God forgive me, I might do it.

I blink and hold my eyelids closed until I can focus again. There is no space in my head for despair right now.

"I know that sometimes quick vampire healing makes their torture not as, mmm, satisfying, shall we say?" Klaus gestures to the rack and to Bonnie. "To that end, I have provided some technology to mix things up a bit. And a human, in case that eventually loses its appeal."

I try to ignore his words, counting my enemies. He always travels with an entourage. Is he frightened or just a prima donna? There are five vampires in the room, waiting to do his bidding. At least I assume they are vampires. Elijah told me once that Klaus had gotten very paranoid over the years. What if it wasn't just paranoia? What if he surrounded himself with people for another reason? He wanted the hybrids so he wouldn't be alone. He originally stole Stefan because they had been friends once.

"Wait," Caroline says. "Stefan doesn't care about me anymore. He didn't even call when I was dying of a werewolf bite. So it's not like he's going to magically, like, care now if you torture me. And _I_ don't know where the coffins are."

"No, but hurting you will upset Elena," Klaus points out. "I find I can get many things accomplished through that alone."

A fat tear rolls down Caroline's cheek. "But I _hate _being tortured. I know I heal fast but it still _hurts_ and I don't know anything!" She's crying in earnest by the time she finishes.

"Caroline…" I say, feeling terrible. I don't know how to comfort her. "She's right, Klaus. I don't know anything and neither does she. She's no use to you."

Klaus's face is calm, but he looks at Caroline for a moment longer than he really needs to. Is it possible he cares about her?

She's sobbing now. She was a wreck after the werewolves tortured her. She's just not the kind of person who is meant for pain. She shouldn't have to be. If I hadn't brought vampires into our lives, she would have planned parties and run charities and worn pretty dresses. No one would have ever hurt her. At least not physically.

"Buck up, Vampire Barbie," Damon says. "A little torture is good for you. Makes you tough. Hey, you'll write better poetry."

I glare at him, even though I know he's trying to help, in his own way. Caroline's sniffles are breaking my heart.

"Use me," I tell Klaus. "Put me on the rack. You can heal me with vampire blood, so I'll still be around to make hybrids. If you're trying to get to Stefan, I'm the best tool you have." I don't know if this is still true. I try not to think about what I will do if Klaus takes me up on my offer.

"Oh, but I already have, love," Klaus smiles. "Let's call Stefan, shall we? Oh, but sweet Caroline." He bends and dabs tears from her cheeks with a linen handkerchief in a manner more intimate than he's entitled to. "We'll leave you for very last, shall we?" he whispers, smiling at her before he turns away.

Yes, there's definitely something there. But can I signal Caroline to use it?

"I'm sorry I have to do this, my dear," Klaus said, walking toward me.

From the corner, Damon speaks up, sounding genuinely bored even to my ears. "You know, not that I owe you any advice, since you're kind of a dick, but take it from me. That girl is much more cooperative when you're nice to her. Besides, my brother is over her. The only person he might show up for would be me, and I sort of doubt that. He tried to go off the human blood, snapped, and went Ripper again this morning. Now really isn't the best day for a guilt trip. Poor scheduling on your part, Dr. Evil."

Klaus doesn't respond, so Damon keeps going.

"Or should I call you Oliver Twist?" Damon asks. "Something poor and orphan-y," he muses aloud. "Now that you're clean out of parental figures, biological and otherwise."

Klaus ignores Damon and dials Stefan's number. I wonder if he'll even answer, as upset as he probably is.

"Ah, hello friend. I'm having a delightful morning. Very good company, don't you know? Would you like to say hello?"

Klaus stops in front of me, nods. I don't intend to, but my mouth opens and out pours the loudest, most wrenching scream of my life, breaking halfway through as if tripping over something intensely painful.

Damon stiffens as if someone has cracked a bullwhip across his naked flesh.

Klaus smiles and turns away, and the sound releases my throat. I'm horrified. Stefan may hate me right now, but he will not ignore that sound. If I shout that I'm ok, he'll hear me. I don't know if he'll stay away even then, though.

What really stops me from shouting is the selfish, immoral part of me that knows Stefan is my best shot at getting Damon out of here alive. I love them both, so I should be willing to risk one to keep the other at a distance, should be willing to at least save one rather than risk both. I know I'll never rest as easy in my own head again but I look at Damon chained to that device, that endless well of pain and I say nothing. Maybe I could have kept Stefan away, maybe I couldn't, but I'll never know.

Klaus crosses the room to Damon.

"No, Stefan, it turns out I have many guests this morning. I have Caroline and Bonnie, friends of yours I think? But they're merely dessert. And the lovely Elena is only an appetizer. The main course, Stefan, is your brother. Because we both so value our siblings."

"Klaus." My voice is utterly flat. I think that is what turns him toward me. "I can get your family back. Give me a day. Not only that, I know where Elijah is. If Elijah knows you won't hurt me, he'll leave town with you, with us." I let the offer hang on the air. I can't tell if Stefan is saying anything, but Klaus appears to be giving me his full attention for the moment.

"Look, you have dealt fairly with me. You could have killed Jeremy to make a point, but you didn't. You weren't even cruel when you killed me for the ritual. I have to work with you forever, to make your hybrids. But we could be friends, too. If you're going to be part of my life, I'd rather not be at odds with you. But if you hurt Damon, there's no going back. I can't forgive that."

"You're bluffing. You wouldn't forgive me so easily for corrupting your boyfriend and stealing him away." Klaus turns his back on me. God, he doesn't even remember Jenna.

Klaus turns the crank, the chains on Damon's wrists and ankles snapping taut and beginning to pull.

"The thing about your brother," says Klaus into the phone, "is that he is such enduring entertainment. Vampires can withstand torture without perishing for such an excruciatingly long time. Indefinitely, really."

"Come on," Damon says incredulously. "Isn't it a little cliché for the bad guy to underestimate the good guy? Do you really think you're dealing with the Stefan of a few months ago? Do you not remember erasing his conscience?"

Klaus turns the wheel another half turn and Damon stops for a second, the strain showing in his face. He visibly shakes it off to continue.

"Cause what you have now is more like the Joker, Dark Knight vintage. Same bad hair but now he's into anarchy and mind games. And most of all, pissing you off." Damon sounds more amused than angry. "So go ahead, stretch me until you need a bigger rack. He's going to drop your precious coffins into the mid-Atlantic Trench."

Klaus keeps his eyes on Damon, but I can tell he's no longer entertained. He spins the wheel one more turn and this wrings a groan out of Damon and a smile from Klaus, who inches the wheel even tighter.

The sound as Damon's shoulder comes out of its socket is as ghastly as the scream that follows.

"What, nothing to say, Stefan?" Klaus inquires politely. "Threats, bargains, trades?"

Damon won't look at me. He won't look anywhere near my side of the room.

"The other thing about my brother," Damon says, "is that our governess taught him to count. So he's fully aware, even if you're not, that he has three of your coffins and you only have the one brother. Not the weightiest bargaining chip. So he could drop off one or two coffins just to see how fast they sink and still have leverage left over to make you jump like his marionette."

Klaus flicks his wrist and Damon's other shoulder separates.

"You had better make haste," Klaus snaps. "I'm in a maiming kind of mood." He hangs up and regards Damon with distaste.

"Look, Klaus, your way isn't working," I say, and then regret my phrasing when he turns to look at me, the cracks in his sanity visibly widening.

"Hybrids are good, but they aren't family. They aren't the same as friends. Elijah and I can get your family's coffins back. I'll leave town with you once we've done that. I think there are others that would join you, if you gave them a chance," I glance quickly at Caroline, who picks up my drift immediately. She sniffles and does her best to look thoughtful. I'm glad she doesn't overplay her part. A year ago, she would have.

"If you could get my coffins back, you would have already," Klaus says dismissively, but he doesn't look away, his lips falling back into their slightly petulant tilt, the aristocrat fading away easily in the face of something he really wants.

I cross my arms. "If you really wanted Stefan, you'd have been watching my house for him."

We stare each other down.

"I can't give you Stefan back, but I can give you everything else you need. Let my friends go."

"You want me to believe you would leave them behind?" Klaus scoffs. "Stefan, Damon, Jeremy? All your family and friends? For me?"

He wants to believe me. That's why this battle has been so half-hearted. The only thing he wants more than his family is a friend. A real one.

I am the world's worst actress. How am I going to sell this? I can't lie straight out. That's never worked.

I shrug and let my gaze drift to the floor. "What do I really have, Klaus? Jeremy's already moved. I'll miss Bonnie, but I can visit her." I look to Caroline, open my mouth and then deliberately let it fall closed again as if I'm not sure if she might come with us. I purse my lips unhappily.

"Stefan's lost. You started that, sure, but you couldn't have done it without him." When did I become so cold and calculating? Was I always capable of this, or is this new? "It is his own evil that's driving him now, not you. I wish I could blame you for all of it, but I can't."

"What about Damon?" Klaus asks distrustfully. "You are not untouched by his pain. Lie if you wish but it's late for that."

I open my mouth and I have no idea what to say. I'm as surprised as Klaus when it's the truth, a part of it as valid as any other in my mind.

I laugh bitterly. "Damon Salvatore? Happy to take second place to his brother? No matter what I do, I'll never be able to erase that I was with Stefan first. He thinks he wants me now, but once the shine wears off, once I'm no longer forbidden…" I swallow past the tightness in my throat that doesn't want to say this with an audience. "He'll realize that I'm just another teenage girl, and that there are dozens of them who would choose him first."

I squeeze my hands in my lap, pushing on my knuckles. They're just hands. Not particularly strong, or beautiful. It takes me a second before I can look at Klaus.

He's totally focused on me, the same way Damon always looks at me. On Klaus's face, the expression makes my skin crawl as if I'm covered in flies.

"Prove it," Klaus says hoarsely. I'm offering him everything he wants. He desperately wants to trust me.

I hold out my hands, palms up. "What would you like me to do?"

He gestures with a subtle sweep of his hand to the wheel that controls the rack.

"Klaus, I didn't say I didn't care," I say desperately. "I said I was willing to leave. That doesn't mean I'm going to torture anyone."

"A moment, only. To prove your loyalty. Without loyalty, what is a friend?" Klaus's voice is a whisper, a shadow of itself. He is too close to the edge. Closer than I ever want him to be when he's on the same planet as me, much less with half my loved ones at his disposal.

I can feel Bonnie's eyes on me. I know what she's thinking. I can hurt Damon for a second, or I can refuse, and Klaus will hurt him a lot. I can get us all free of this, right now.

"If you want to prove yourself, you can approach him. For the next minute," Klaus's eyes catch mine, "you can approach him if you want." He's given me a hole in the compulsion, but hasn't taken it off. It is my moment of truth. I swore that I could do what is necessary. I know, deep in my core, that I'm capable of whatever I need to be to save Damon. To save all of them.

I stand up.


	27. Fratres Sanguine Ignique

_Author's Note: The title means 'Brothers in Blood and Fire' in Latin._

* * *

I know Damon will forgive me if I have to torture him. He's probably already forgiven me and is formulating his plan for how to kill Klaus. Damon said he was going to get a secret weapon, but I never saw any hint that he had succeeded, even though the plan was supposed to go through this afternoon.

I move my eyes across the floor to where I need to go, to hurt Damon and win Klaus's trust. My gaze makes it as high as Damon's bare feet, chains biting cruelly into his flesh.

In the shower three days ago, I washed his feet, his ankles. I washed every inch of him and swore I'd never be the cause of pain to that body ever again.

I never test whether Klaus took the compulsion off or not. I don't make it a single inch forward. There's nothing Machiavellian about me after all. I can manipulate, I can twist people's emotions, but when it comes down to what really needs to be done, I'm as insufficient as I've always been.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. Not to Klaus. To Damon.

And Bonnie, and Caroline. To Stefan. Maybe even Jeremy. Elijah might still stay out of this likely-fatal mess, but we won't.

The redheaded vampire laughs. "Not so tough, after all, are you?"

I can't look at her. I can't look at anyone.

"Your minute is up," Klaus says coldly. "Your loyalty is worth as much as Stefan's, in the end. I'll keep that in mind in the future."

His disappointment will feed his cruelty. I risked all, and I lost. It will be worse now, for Damon, than if I'd said nothing.

Klaus stares straight at me as he turns the wheel. After only a few seconds, Damon starts to scream, and I can tell from the sound that he can't stop. His arms and legs are breaking, bone and cartilage ripping, tendons tearing, muscle shredding. I can hear it under the sound of his screams. Klaus knows his rhythm. He keeps it at a slow pull, not giving Damon or me a second to recover.

I have no idea how long I last before I'm on the floor. I suspect it wasn't long. Caroline is crying again, begging Klaus to stop. I'm having some kind of seizure. I'm trying to get to Damon but Klaus's compulsion is short-circuiting all the messages between my brain and my body and my nervous system is in chaos, along with the rest of me.

When Klaus finally pauses, Damon stops screaming and I can hear the noises I'm making for the first time. There isn't a word for them. Not one I know, anyway.

Damon takes a breath, then two.

For the first time, there's an edge to his voice. "Elena, will you _calm down? _We both know Klaus and I can play this game all day long and I'll still feed his balls to him before Happy Hour is over."

I feel something like a push inside my head. Like compulsion, but different. I clamp my mouth shut against the agonized noises my throat is making and turn my head in the direction the push wants me to.

I meet Bonnie's eyes. She's fully witch now, not my best childhood friend. Her face doesn't change like a vampire but something in her posture, in her eyes, is a wholly new species. She looks like she wants to tell me something. Her eyes go to Damon purposefully and then back to me and it's clear what she's saying even through the guilt and horror clogging my brain.

Klaus isn't torturing Damon with the pain. He's torturing Damon with my reaction. Because I don't know where the coffins are, but Damon does.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can feel my eyelids twitching, my throat convulsing around the scream that wants to protest all of this. That instinctively still wants to call for help. From where, I have no idea.

I pick myself up off the ground and sit in the chair. My chin goes up, my eyes open and I look at Damon for the first time since I failed him. His eyes flare slightly in satisfaction. I was right, then. This is what he needs from me.

"As a matter of fact, we can't do this all day," Klaus says with a touch of mischief. "Do you know why I've come to prefer the rack over other methods of torture?"

"A tediously predictable bondage kink?" Damon suggests.

Klaus shakes his head with a smile that I do not like. "I prefer it because if you turn the wheel backwards just a bit, vampire healing kicks in and it cements your ligaments in their overextended state, your joints dislocated and deformed."

My body already holds the brittle stillness of prey trapped by the focus of a predator, so I don't move in reaction to this news. I need less than the space of one breath to calculate the possibilities of what being crippled for eternity would do to Damon's personality.

Now. Now is the time to act. I can't wait for Stefan or Elijah to show up, as little as my intervention will matter without them. But I also can't do anything to Klaus until he moves away from Damon. Unfortunately, I don't know how big of an off-limits zone the compulsion created.

Klaus loosens the wheels and I dig my fingernails into the wood of my chair and keep the planes of my face locked into place. I need to stop him _before _he does this irreparable thing, but I am physically incapable of moving toward him while he stands next to Damon.

"It is the surest way outside of amputation to maim a vampire permanently," Klaus says.

"Not to interrupt your smug villain speech, but it's not working. Maybe my vampire healing is smarter than your toy," Damon says. "Too bad."

Klaus loosens the wheel a bit more, locking its position. Damon's arms twist and appear to pop back into place, but then he howls. It is so much like his cry on Wickery Bridge that my body flashes hot, then cold. Obviously this is just the right position to cause the most pain and damage.

I have to wait for Klaus to move away. I have to wait, but Damon's screams are a thousand rats with hungry teeth eating their way in through my ears and gnawing on my brain. I glance at Caroline and she blinks very deliberately at me. I don't look at Bonnie. Bonnie has a plan. She'll use the moment I give her. I just hope her plan can possibly make a difference. I seriously doubt Caroline, Bonnie and I can kill Klaus on our own, or even keep him down for long. If Damon is crippled, he won't be able to help.

I try to hold onto the process of making a plan, to shape my mind into words that order themselves into sentences that are not Damon's screams.

Smiling faintly, Klaus clasps his hands behind his back and strolls away. I leap at him with every bit of pent-up speed in my tense muscles. It feels like a lot, but he turns and catches me, laughing that I would even attempt a move against him.

He's still laughing when I plunge the auto-injecting syringe through the center of his pupil and deliver the entire load of vervain straight into his brain.

Bonnie is chanting, ancient Latin filling the room with words that impact the air like blows. Caroline's free, though I have no idea how that happened. She's already taken out the redheaded vampire. In my single glance, I see her intercept a male vampire headed for me. She picks him up and throws him into a tall, dusky skinned woman who I realize is chanting as well. I guess she's not a vampire after all. Of course: Klaus would never have Bonnie here without another witch to bind her powers.

I pick up the chair Caroline was in and smash it over another of Klaus's vampires who is attacking her from behind. Klaus's minions appear to have decided I'm no threat, despite the fact that my attack has Klaus thrashing on the floor in a strange, convulsive manner. The vervain doesn't seem to be knocking him out like it does other vampires, but it's having _some_ effect.

Maybe his vampires are under orders not to harm me. The chair only slows the vampire a little, but Caroline doesn't look like she needs much help. I can't see what she's doing. She's just a blur that tosses vampires out in different directions. When did she learn to fight like this?

I take a chair leg out of the wreckage and try to remember the exact angle Damon showed me to get to Klaus's heart.

Damon sees what I'm doing and starts shouting at me over the sounds of battle. "Don't even try it, Elena, are you out of your damn mind?" In another direction, he demands, "Would you hurry the fuck _up_?" I don't know who he's talking to. I'm focused on Klaus, and he must be in a lot of pain because he doesn't react to me at all.

When I drive the chair leg in, I use all the strength in my legs, my core, my arms. It splinters like I tried to stake a sidewalk.

The doors bang open, knocking down Klaus's witch, who has just barely made it back to her feet after Caroline's attack.

Elijah stands in the doorway with a stake carved intricately of white wood like Michael's had been. Do I dare hope he's found a white ash stake?

"Allow me, my lady," he says gallantly and I roll out of the way. Elijah blurs into Klaus and I see the syringe go flying. There's fighting all around me that I can't follow and I have no idea where to go.

"Get behind me!" Damon demands. "The rack will act as a shield!"

I turn toward him, but someone grabs my arm before the compulsion has a chance to kick in.

Bonnie's chanting rises above all the noise as if it travels through different air, not competing with the sounds already present in the room. She is concentrating on her spell and has made no effort to get free so she's tied and vulnerable in the middle of the room.

I try to jerk my arm away with no effect and turn to face my attacker. It is Stefan.

"Run," he says urgently. "Get out of here. We'll finish this."

"Get Damon free, and I'll go. Get Bonnie out of the middle of this!" I shout at him. The blur that is the Original brothers is ricocheting dangerously around the room. Even as I watch, they crash into the blonde guy that Caroline was fighting. He slides to the floor in a heap of broken bones and pieces of wall.

"Caroline! Get out of the way!" I yell.

Stefan's back at my side. He moved Bonnie, chair and all, into the hall. I can still hear her chanting. I crawl out to her and start untying the ropes binding her hands. "Get Damon!" I'm shouting at Stefan and he's shouting back at me, but there's so much noise it is hard to understand.

"Trust me, Elena!" is the last thing he says before the room flashes white with from a single pillar of flame. I abandon Bonnie to see who survived.

Klaus is still standing, his head in his hands. I don't even feel Stefan's hands holding me back, but they must be because my running feet are taking me nowhere.

"No, Elijah!"

My cry mixes with Klaus's, both high with grief and disbelief, a strange and discordant harmony in the midst of Caroline's ongoing battle with Klaus's vampire army.

"Why? Why did you bring the stake, brother? How could you bring the stake?" Klaus wails.

I don't know where Elijah got that stake from, but it's gone now, and Klaus appears unharmed. We've lost. All is lost.

Caroline's not done yet. She twists the heart out of Klaus's witch, the last minion still moving. The witch goes to her knees, eyes blank.

Caroline brandishes the heart at Klaus, her wrist cocked back in a strangely feminine gesture of triumph. "You ready to be next?" she asks him.

My eyes widen. "Caroline, don't _even_!"

She tosses the heart right at his feet but Klaus is still dazed and doesn't respond.

Stefan lets go of my arms and steps in front of me. Damon rips the chains off the rack and drops to the ground, rolling his shoulders.

How did he do that? How is he not hurt?

"Open wide, Niklaus," Damon sneers. "I'm not sure you're going to like your last meal."

"Damon!" Stefan calls, and something flashes through the air from him to Damon.

Unless that is the equivalent of a vampire WMD, we are all about to die. It didn't even take Klaus five full minutes to finish Elijah.

Stefan, Damon, and oh God, _Caroline _all turn to streaks of color, headed for Klaus.

Bonnie has fallen silent.

"Bonnie, do something," I scream at her, running over and pulling at the ropes on her wrists.

"I don't have the power to kill him, Elena!"

Caroline comes flying out and hits the wall next to the door. I grab her arm and drag her into the hallway. She's not unconscious, just dazed, but I cling to her arm.

"Caroline, don't! Bonnie, just do something. Slow him down, make him blind, something!"

The fight slows down once Caroline is out and I can see what is happening. Damon intercepts a punch from Klaus and steps past him in a blur, swinging Klaus's arm like a golf club. There's a pop as Klaus's shoulder dislocates. That move should have broken his arm, for sure.

Klaus reaches for Damon with his other hand and Stefan blocks him and kicks his knee out sideways. Klaus changes his reach into a powerful backhand aimed at Stefan and Damon punches him in the stomach. This only slows Klaus down, but it means the blow knocks Stefan down instead of putting him through a wall.

Stefan rolls into Klaus's legs, throwing him onto the floor. Damon takes the opening and stomps Klaus's throat. This would have really wrecked a human, but Klaus reaches up and catches Damon's arm, throwing him across the room.

My head hurts from trying to follow this. Klaus shouldn't have been able to throw Damon from that position at all. His strength boggles me.

Klaus goes after Stefan. Bonnie's chanting hits a peak. Klaus grimaces and he somehow misses catching Stefan and trips into him instead. Stefan knees him in the head, laying Klaus out on the ground.

There's a blur and I know it is Damon because it is white, dark blue and black and please God don't let him die don't take him from me please not him…

He's so _fast _and then there is screaming and fire.

* * *

_Author's Note: If you are frustrated with Season 4 (like me!) head on over to latbfan's new story: Bourbon Before Breakfast. It adds depth to the canon scenes from Season 4 and redeems Elena in places. Plus, her writing is so good it blows my mind a little bit. _


	28. To Heal

_Author's Note: I feel I should repeat my warnings: I don't own these characters, and in this chapter, they engage in lots of adult language and violence._

* * *

**ELENA POV**

"How does that barbecue taste, bitch?" Damon yells triumphantly, kicking Klaus's flaming corpse. This of course lights his foot on fire and he's distracted for a second trying to put it out until Bonnie says something commanding in Latin and the fire disappears. I've finally gotten her free from the chair and we both stand in the doorway. Damon hisses a curse.

"Come on, Damon, don't get carried away," she says chidingly. "I'm not a fire extinguisher."

"Oh witchy, you know you love me right now," Damon teases, his eyes alight with victory even through his obvious pain.

I try to go to him and can't. What if Klaus's compelling me is permanent? What a terrible final revenge that would be.

Damon grasps the arm Klaus used to throw him across the room and swears again, his smile dimming a little. "Jesus, that hurts." He pulls his shirt down and I stifle a cry. His eyes widen.

"Oh shit, Stefan, put my arm back on. Now. Yeah, maybe right fucking now would be good."

It's torn halfway through at the shoulder, a ruin of muscle and blood. Stefan grasps his brother's elbow and guides it all back together, holding the arm tightly in place. I look away, gagging quietly.

Damon groans through his teeth and swears in what sounds like another language, maybe two.

"It's not healing," Stefan says after a moment. "You're too depleted. You need to feed."

"Did Klaus leave any humans behind?" Caroline asks. She's back on her feet. I hadn't noticed in all the excitement. She looks around. "Actually, I pretty much killed them all. Oh, but none of them were human. Do you want me to look around and see if there's anybody in the mansion?"

Stefan nods, still holding Damon's arm. "Go. Be careful."

Caroline zips out.

Damon looks to me, his eyes going over me once head to foot. Something flashes over his face and then he looks away.

I try to cross the room to him again as Klaus's flames burn into ash. I brace myself for failure. If this doesn't work, I don't know how I'm going to live with it.

One step, two, and then I run to him. Klaus must not have been totally dead the first time I tried.

I can't hug him, don't want to do more damage. I don't want to kiss him in front of Stefan. So instead I just touch his chest once, carefully, and drink in the sight of him for an instant before I turn to Stefan.

"Stefan, I'm so sorry-,"

"Not now, Elena," Stefan says, his voice tight. "Let's deal with all this first."

I nod and bite my lip.

Blood is dripping onto the floor from Damon's ruined shoulder. His eyes look dark and sunken back into his head.

"Damon, I want you to take my blood," I tell him.

He shakes his head even as veins crackle under his skin, giving away his hunger.

Caroline returns. "Nobody. Maybe people took off when they heard the fight? I'm sorry."

"Drink, Damon, Please. Let me do one thing today. Just _one,"_ the frustration is crackling through my voice, and I think that's what he responds to.

It is my fault he's in pain. If I can stop it, I don't understand why he won't let me. He's not Stefan. There's no danger that he'll take too much.

This time Damon doesn't shake his head. Stefan looks away.

I hold my wrist out to him. As soon as I do it, I realize I want him to drink from my neck, want it so much I can feel the veins throbbing there. We can't do that in front of people. Not with Stefan right here.

Damon takes my hand with his good one, his palm against my knuckles. He laces our fingers together and holds my eyes as he brings my wrist to his mouth.

Stefan is still holding Damon's injured arm in place so it can heal correctly, but he's looking determinedly at the far wall.

Damon does it so gently that it is less like a bite and more like two big needles sliding into my veins. Then his mouth closes over the twin punctures, his eyelids drift shut and the black veins finally overtake his face.

The first pull as he draws out my blood hits me right between the legs. I press my thighs together. Stefan is standing so close and thanks to Damon I now know that vampires can smell arousal. Which means that Caroline can too.

The embarrassment should be enough to cool me off, but it doesn't even make a dent.

Damon's back stiffens with the strain of keeping his more primitive nature in check. The injuries raise his hunger to starvation level and he's trying so hard to be careful with me. His fingers tremble in mine but his mouth is tender on my wrist, taking another urgent pull that puts butterflies in my stomach and runs gooseflesh up and down my arms.

I sway closer to him, my free hand tangling in his shirt and my eyelids waver and close.

His next swallow lights up nerve endings along the whole length of my spine and my scalp tingles like someone is softly braiding my hair. My lips part on a contented sigh.

The sound is overlaid by something else. Sort of a hiss. Stefan.

My eyes snap open and I see that Stefan's not jealous. He's hungry.


	29. In Memoriam

_Soundtrack: "Be Still" by The Fray. Copy and paste it into Youtube to listen for free._

* * *

**ELENA POV**

A black network of veins marks Stefan's face. His eyes are full of blood and his gaze is locked onto my wrist. He's struggling to keep his mouth closed over his lengthening canines.

I freeze, fear hitting my bloodstream like an intravenous drug.

Stefan's still holding Damon's arm, which is knitting back together as I watch, nourished by my blood. Damon's eyes are closed, focused on feeding.

I'm no longer relaxed and the last swallow Damon takes _hurts,_ a burning sensation like stinging nettles on an open wound. My face twists in response, but I hold my wrist in place for him.

His eyes come open and he lets me go. "Elena, what?"

He sees Stefan's reaction and shifts his weight to move between us. I grab Damon to keep him still.

"Don't move. Your arm is still healing. Let him hold it in place. He's in control, Damon. He's not going to hurt me."

Until I say it, I'm not sure it's true, but I know Stefan needs my faith in him to give him strength.

Stefan meets my eyes and he looks anguished, though he's still not able to control the blood surrounding his beautiful green irises. It takes him three long breaths to pull his fangs back in, but he holds his brother's arm steady the whole time until it is finally healed.

Damon steps back and shrugs out of the bloody ruin of his shirt, dropping it unceremoniously atop Klaus's burned body.

He reaches for my wrist again and I hold it out to him without hesitation, wondering if he needs more. Instead of latching on, his tongue traces the line of blood that has dripped into my palm. I shiver. When the wound is clean, his eyes find mine and I can tell that sharing my blood affected him as much as it did me.

"I can heal it," he offers in a low voice.

I shake my head. "I'm okay."

I know what it did to both of us the last time I took his blood, and I don't want to do that in public. Besides, I'm perversely proud of my twin puncture marks. They're a visible reminder that I could contribute at least something to this fight. I didn't keep anyone away from it, and I didn't talk Klaus out of his goal, but at least I could heal Damon's wounds. It's not a small thing. Not to me.

Unfortunately, this hasn't done anything to quell my growing fetish. I want Damon to bite me again. When we're alone. Preferably naked.

I duck my head behind my hair to hide my totally inappropriate blush. My gaze lands on the corpse of the redheaded vampire that snapped Damon's neck. Her chest has a gaping hole in it. The sight of a dead person goes a long way toward curbing my lust, which is definitely for the best.

Damon claps Stefan roughly on the shoulder. "Way to come through, brother. How'd you know where I hid that stake?"

The hint of a smile passes over Stefan's lips. "You always keep fresh flowers in that vase on the landing of the stairs."

"So what?" Damon protests. "I'm classy."

"You hate flowers," Stefan says. "Anyway, my second guess was your hollowed out copy of Madame Bovary."

Damon grins. "Bovary, that little minx. Very nice, Watson."

"I'd think tossing you the stake instead of keeping it for myself would earn me at least a Holmes reference," Stefan says mildly, and my eyebrows jump. I wouldn't have guessed he'd be in a mood to make jokes, but I guess the true end of Klaus is enough for even Stefan to get in a celebratory mood.

"Tossing me the stake proves you are Watson," Damon points out.

"I figured if I missed with the super-rare stake you managed to dig up, I'd have to listen to you snipe at me about it for about the next century and a half," Stefan says. "Not much is worth that, even killing Klaus."

Damon smiles wryly at that, and then tips his head to Bonnie. "Much appreciate the timely jailbreak."

She nods back. Whenever she uses magic, it lends her a sort of dignity that's hard not to respect. "I blinded him for a second, when he went for Stefan at the end. And I turned Caroline loose. And I was the one who called Elijah. So I figure you're in hock to me for about four favors, Damon."

"Why me?" Damon protests. "Why doesn't Stefan owe you any of those?"

Bonnie lifts her chin slightly. "Stefan will usually do me a favor just for asking." She gives Stefan a cool glance. "Though I don't appreciate how you've been acting lately about those coffins."

"I haven't been myself," he says with that easy humility that Damon will never be able to match if he lives as long as Klaus. "I'm sorry for pushing you the way I have."

"How did you contact Elijah?" Damon wants to know. "I assume they did a bag and grab on you, too."

Now Bonnie almost cracks a smile, the corner of her mouth twitching up as she begins to look more like a normal teenage girl, proud of a new trick. "What did you call it that one time? I sent him a telegram from Witchland."

It's funny to hear one of Damon's irreverent phrases in Bonnie's high, clear voice, but my chest contracts with regret, because she called Elijah. Could we have won without him? Could he have lived?

"What about me?" Caroline says. "I kill four vampires and a witch and I don't even get a slap on the back like Stefan?"

"Don't pout, Blondie. It'll give you wrinkles."

She glares at him and he relents. "Hey, I'm just proud you got the hearts this time without having to turn the vampires inside out to find them. Cardiology? Maybe not the career choice for you. Just sayin'."

"You should be proud that I was out here kicking ass and saving Elena while you were just sitting on the sidelines."

"You know me. I never miss an opportunity to put my feet up. Why ruin a good catfight by interfering?"

Caroline narrows her eyes at him and then turns away with a little toss of her hair. Their insulting banter is starting to sound more friendly than malicious these days.

"Where did Elijah come up with that second stake?" Stefan asks. "He sure didn't have it the last time we tried to kill Klaus. Or it was the time before last, I guess."

"He got it from me," Damon says, proving my earlier thought about his lack of humility.

"What?" Caroline puts her hands on her hips indignantly. "You had two white oak stakes and you were what, saving them for a special occasion?"

Damon gives her a charmingly crooked smile that has no impact whatsoever on her expression. "It seemed like this was a pretty special occasion to me. I know _I'm_ in a champagne kind of mood."

"Wait, how _did _you get two white oak stakes?" I ask, a little taken aback that he hadn't told me.

"Originals are paranoid bastards. I figured they had all probably stashed a stake or two away over the years, just in case. One was in the spare tire of Michael's rental car. The other one took longer, but I finally found it in an economy-sized box of tampons in Rebekah's bathroom. Cagy little wench cut off a bunch of tampons halfway down so you could open the box and it would look totally normal."

"That's a good one," Caroline nods sagely. "Boys usually avoid tampons like going on the rag is contagious. Good find, Damon."

He rolls his eyes. "I wouldn't try that trick on anyone that knows you, Blondie."

"Because vampires don't have periods?" she asks. "That does sort of ruin a perfectly good trick."

"Why didn't you tell us you had the stakes?" Bonnie asks. "We were supposed to go through with the plan tonight and nobody had any idea you had one stake, much less two."

"Figured if I told anybody, Klaus would eventually find out and steal them back. So I just gave Elijah his and called it good."

"Why did you give him one before you planned to attack?" I asked. I knew Damon didn't trust Elijah.

"Because," Damon says, looking impossibly more smug, "Elijah was never my actual plan. Every time I trust somebody to do my killing for me, they fuck it up. Elijah was just my backup plan in case something happened to me. Which worked out pretty well in the end."

I turn away. I can't even look at Damon right now. I face the pile of ashes that I've been avoiding. It is close to where Klaus fell but even now I could never mistake one for another.

"You all need to leave," I say in a low voice. "We can get the bodies later but for now, just go."

No one moves. Surprisingly, it is Stefan who protests.

"Elena…"

"No." I round on them, my eyes burning with all the violent resolve that lit me up this morning. It had all gone for nothing after all. I'd saved no one, kept no one out of this. Only luck and the grace of God kept the Salvatores safe.

"None of you knew Elijah. None of you are even _sorry _that he's gone. So go."

Stefan gives me a pained look. Bonnie looks sympathetic and turns to go. Damon and Caroline don't budge.

"Get out!" I shout.

Stefan has to take Damon by the arm, which he immediately jerks away, but they all leave.

I close the door behind them and I'm alone in a room of corpses.

I walk slowly back across the room, keeping my eyes up when I have to step over a bloody wad of muscle that I assume is a heart.

I move past Klaus to the scorch and ash that is all that is left of a thousand years of Elijah. I get down on my knees next to him and reach out to touch the remnants of the stake that killed him. The stake that Damon gave him. It crumbles under my fingers.

Tears streak down my face as I kneel there with ancient ash on my hands.

I see Elijah walking with me, after I un-daggered him the first time, telling me the story of the doppleganger curse. I see the hope and old pain in his eyes when he offered me the elixir he had gotten for Katherine. The elixir he still had because he hadn't wanted to save a human in 500 years until he met me.

The first sob tears loose from my chest, ugly and angry and dark with regret because with all the magic in my life there ought to be a way to take this back.

But there isn't.

There's a commotion outside the door, but then I hear Bonnie's authoritative voice and it quiets.

Elijah had a long life. That should be a comfort, shouldn't it? Was he ready to go? I can still see the spark in his eye when he talked about computer programs that let you create and mix music on your laptop, and my stomach muscles spasm. I think not. I think he found enough delight and joy in life that he still wanted to keep it, even after all this time.

I have a crazy urge to go and un-dagger Rebekah because I know she'll grieve with me, that she knew what a genuinely wonderful man Elijah was.

She would hurt too many people if she were free. Including me.

So I wrap my arms tightly, inadequately, around myself. I think about Elijah looking distastefully at the movie theatre popcorn. I see his smile, touched with the first light of the dawn this morning.

And I sob.

Wretchedly, horridly. Earnestly.

When my throat is raw and my eyes burn dry and my body feels weak from all the emotion that has passed through it today, I bend forward and press my forehead to the floor where Elijah's hand should be. I stay there for a long moment and then I swallow and rise.

I wipe my face clean, and find a tissue to blow my nose.

I open the door to four sets of solemn and concerned eyes. They didn't go far, my friends.

"Let's deal with these bodies," I say, my voice steady.

* * *

_Author's Note: This story was written on a timeline that took off before they realized that if you kill an Original, it kills a whole bloodline, so we'll keep it simple and say that doesn't happen in this world. Two chapters today, because I love you guys. Please leave a review and let me know what you think of the direction the story has taken. _


	30. Uhaul

_Author's Note: I really liked writing this chapter. I know, I know, I say that every time, but I really did. I like Stefan and Damon together. They're fun :)_

**DAMON POV**

* * *

I've only been home from Original Family burial duty for a few hours when noise from Stefan's room interrupts my reading. At first I ignore it. I mean, getting rid of all the most powerful vampires in the world in one hyper-efficient day should earn me a quiet afternoon off from babysitting everyone in this goddamn unlucky town.

Then again, it's not out of the question that Elena's break-up bomb has pushed Stefan into another Ripper binge and the noise is him demolishing the Mystic Falls cheerleading squad. I toss my book aside and pour a drink. I guess I should have expected this. I should stop him before he finishes them off. Elena might know some of them and that won't go over well.

Still, I don't hurry up the stairs because I'm really not in the mood for this. Maybe I should compel a shoulder rub out of one of those cheerleaders before I take them home. It's been a stressful couple of weeks. I could probably get one out of Elena, but she has a lot of homework to catch up on. I think that is an incredibly unconvincing reason for me to not be spending this Saturday with her, but she insisted.

By the time I reach the end of the hall I recognize that the sounds coming from Stefan's room aren't the sounds of killing. They're the sounds of packing. I stop for a second and stand there, listening. Talk about things I should have seen coming. Huh.

I send a text to Elena.

**Damon: Come over.**

My brother's keeper, I am not. That's her job.

I saunter into his room and lean against the doorframe.

"Spring cleaning? About damn time."

"I'm leaving, Damon. Don't pretend you don't know why."

"What, so I'm supposed to feel guilty that you're going to go off and pout over me stealing your girlfriend?" I laugh. "Hold your breath, Stef."

"Provoking me isn't going to work, Damon."

"Actually, I wasn't trying. If I was trying, I'd be giving you shit about taking off because you can't bear to see my dirty little hands all over her." I make breast-groping motions with my free hand, because I'm a dick like that.

Stefan's eye twitches, which cheers me up some.

"You're not good enough for her."

"That was a better argument before you exceeded my body count," I point out, wandering over to see what he's bringing with him. I take a ceramic something or other out of the box and shake it free of its newspaper wrapping. It's a little dog statue. What the fuck?

"Man, you may be old, but you're nobody's grandmammy. Cool it on the Precious Moments already." I toss it over my shoulder and he catches it before it hits the ground, glaring while he re-wraps it in newspaper.

"It looks like a dog I used to have."

I choke on my scotch, even though it is twenty years old and made with Islay malts. Smooth as cigar smoke going over my tongue. "What? Stefan the squirrel slasher? Isn't there kind of a moral dilemma with that?"

"It's no more ironic than you having a human girlfriend."

I laugh. "Touche, brother."

I shove some of his folded hoodies into a wrinkly pile so there's room for me to sprawl comfortably on his bed with my drink. Who folds hoodies anyway?

"Elena's going to be old enough to get grey hair by the time you pack all this shit up. Do you really need every tchotchke with you at all times? We've got plenty of rooms. Leave some of this here for when you come back."

Stefan gives me a look that's borderline apologetic. "I'm not coming back, Damon."

I smirk. "Sure you're not. Besides, even if you manage to stay away until your girlfriend's old enough to make me look like cougar bait, she'll be gone in sixty years or so. If I were you, I wouldn't want to pack up this midden for a move of less than a century."

Stefan presses his lips together, making his disapproving nun face. "With your influence, I doubt she'll stay human that long."

"Trust me, I'm not keen on the idea of me changing adult diapers, but I learned my lesson on forcing my blood down her throat. If you're going to be like that though, I'm surprised you don't mind the idea of me bad-influencing the whole town with no one to stand in my way."

Stefan lets out a breath on a little laugh. "Actually, Damon, it's you that made it your mission to keep the town safe. I just cared about Elena, and I couldn't even get that right."

I laugh derisively. "Yeah. Protecting the town is front and center in my personal mission statement. Hey, maybe I can run for mayor and throw bi-monthly Founder's themed events for the rest of my too-long life."

I roll my eyes and check my phone.

"Okay, Damon, but only one of us is running the Founder's Council," Stefan points out.

I ignore my brother in favor of my new text messages.

**Elena: At the rate we're going, I'm going to graduate with Jeremy. I'm going to try to hold out for another hour…**

**Elena: I can just hear you saying "My money's on 25 minutes." Stay out of my head, Salvatore! XOXO**

She thinks I'm booty-calling her in a text, like a lazy, horny 16-year-old. She should know better. I'd call, and use the husky voice that I've perfected because it works on her like Spanish Fly.

**Damon: Stefan ordered up an Economy-sized Uhaul and he's loading away.**

"Look, if you're going to text-flirt with Elena, get the hell off my bed."

That comment has the unfortunate effect of reminding me that he's slept with Elena in this bed.

I stick my phone back in my pocket. "You know, I managed to live in this house the whole time you guys were dating without being such a bitch about it. I could hear her fake an orgasm all the way from my wing of the house."

This isn't strictly true, but Stefan clenches his fists and his eyes go red at the corners. I set my drink down in anticipation, but he takes a breath and his eyes go back to normal. I cross one boot over the other, disappointed.

Instead of punching me, he gives me a look of fond exasperation that I recognize because I get it from Elena about twelve times a day.

"I'll miss you, too, brother," he says.

"Ooh, does somebody need a hug?" I mock, getting up off the bed. "Fuck off. At least this way you won't be triggering Elena's overactive conscience with your broody journaling."

I start to walk out, but Stefan's apparently not finished.

"I'm not just leaving because of you and Elena."

"What, you just realized that Mystic Falls is somewhat lacking in entertainment? Come on, I hear we're getting a JC Penney soon. Or, I know, wait five minutes and we'll have a decade dance. We haven't done the 30's yet. I'd love to see Blondie's Dust Bowl dress."

"Elena's right. I need to get a handle on my reaction to human blood, and avoiding it isn't the answer."

"I've been telling you that since you turned," I protest. "What, I need a bigger cup size before you can listen to my advice?"

"One more remark about Elena's body," Stefan's got his hand around my throat by the time I finish the sentence. "Just one more."

I brush him off and he staggers back a step. "Guess you haven't tried to build up your tolerance yet. You still have bunny biceps. And P.S., the threat is supposed to come _before _the attack."

I turn my back on him to rub it in. Maybe he'll get a handle on drinking the human stuff sooner if he thinks it will make him strong enough to kick my ass.

"I know, why don't you stick around so I can send you gloating little text messages?" I snipe.

Stefan sighs. Sounds like a four-brow-crease sigh. I smile.

"That wasn't my best moment. I shouldn't have sent you that text. Wanting Elena…sometimes I feel like it made me a little crazy, especially when you were in the picture."

I'm hardly one to throw stones on that subject.

"Hey, since you're bailing, can I have your copy of Tale of Two Cities?" I pull it off the shelf and thumb through it. Stefan has great taste in book bindings, always goes for the thicker leather. Too bad it doesn't extend to his clothing choices. He's such a little trend-hound. He abandoned suspenders for belts way before I got around to it, I remember.

It is pretty entertaining watching him change cuts and colors every couple of years. I made a point to live near him all through the 1980's and it was definitely worth it.

I hear the front door open and close downstairs. Stefan would hear it too if he wasn't on the weak-sauce diet.

"Anyway, I thought you'd be happy I am leaving. Especially since I am not going to be anywhere near Elena while I try to build up my tolerance."

"I'm ecstatic," I tell him. "I just don't get why that necessitates packing up your whole garden gnome collection."

"You should be grateful," he tells me, bitterness creeping into his tone. "Since at least_ I_ have the grace not to stand in line until she gets tired of you and all your bullshit."

Elena breezes into the room, dropping her purse by the door. "What, you haven't staked each other yet? That's new."

"Don't count chickens, Elena," I say, and punch Stefan in the face. He lands on a closed box with a satisfying crunch of breaking ceramic.

I stalk out without looking at either of them.

* * *

**ELENA POV**

* * *

I unbutton my coat and raise an eyebrow at Stefan, who gets to his feet and wiggles his jaw experimentally.

Downstairs, the front door slams.

"Damon's not taking it well," he says by way of explanation. "I assume he called you to get you to talk me out of leaving?"

"Of course he did. Neither of us wants you to go anywhere, Stefan."

"Really?" he bursts out. "You can't possibly understand why I wouldn't want to stick around for this?"

"Of course we _understand_, but we love you," I say gently.

"If you loved me so much, you wouldn't be giving me the 'we' speech right now," he snaps, turning his back on me. I can see the muscles in his back clench under his shirt and he paces across the room, then lets out a pent-up breath.

"Stefan…"

I'm analyzing his movements, his facial expressions. I think he's still on animal blood. Damon wouldn't have just left me alone with him if he was back on the human stuff.

"I'm sorry, that wasn't fair." He sighs, sounding more like himself. "I shouldn't have let Damon get to me. I knew he was going to be like that."

"I was a little surprised," I tease. "One punch and no blood?"

"Well, I choked him earlier," Stefan admits.

I shake my head. "Your dysfunction is starting to seem almost functional. I probably need to rethink my standards."

Stefan smiles, but it fades quickly.

"Don't go. Please."

Stefan looks at me and there is so much between us.

History, love, regret, tension, guilt, hurt.

His room is as familiar as my own. His presence feels necessary, permanent, like he's always been in my life, even though it's only been a little over a year.

The spark isn't there, though. The attraction that made me giggly around him when we first met has mellowed, but there's still a certain chemistry, I recognize now. Something that makes him more important to me than Matt or Tyler, something in addition to our shared past.

Whatever ties me to these Salvatore boys, it's strong. I wish there was a word for it. There are too many things in my life lately that the English language just hasn't wrapped its dictionary around.

"I'm so, so sorry I told you the way that I did. I never would have done it like that, but I was scared to death that Klaus was going to kill you, Damon, and Elijah. I thought if I could make you mad enough, you'd run off and be safe." I bit my lip. "It was the thing that I knew would affect you the most. I would have used it anyway, it just makes it so much worse that it was true."

"So you're sorry you're with Damon?" Stefan asks disbelievingly.

"No," I tell him. "I'm sorry that I used it deliberately to hurt you."

He turns away and starts wrapping things in newspaper and placing them in a box. "It doesn't matter. I'm leaving for a lot of reasons. I admit that I'm not ready to see you and Damon together, but that's not the only thing going on. I need to learn to manage my bloodlust. I can't have another Ripper binge. Ever. I'm going to try some of the Eastern methods that Elijah liked."

"But you're coming back, right?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea," he says, not stopping his work.

"Stefan, you came here because you wanted to build a life. Have friends and family nearby," I remind him.

"Yeah, and it didn't really work out that way," he says, and then makes a visible effort to curb the bitterness in his tone. "I have time. I'll try again, somewhere else. I should have known better, anyway. Mystic Falls has too much baggage for me to be able to start a new life here."

"You still have a life here," I tell him. "You have school, and football, and friends and family. You don't have to give all that up. A life is a lot more than a girlfriend."

"It's not that easy for me," he says.

I sit down on the edge of his bed. "Stefan, can you honestly say you're still in love with me?"

"What?" His lips twist. "Elena, you've made your choice. I get that. But don't try to tell me what I do and don't feel."

"That's not what I mean. We're not the same people that fell in love my junior year, Stefan. We've both changed. A lot. You were a perfect match for the girl I was when you moved here."

He's packing very quickly now.

"You've changed too, Stefan. If Damon had never come here, I think things would have ended up the same. It just would have taken longer."

"Or I would have killed you because I couldn't control myself," he spat out, then pressed his lips together. "Now isn't a good time, Elena. Not you and Damon one right after the other like this. My moods are unstable anyway, because of going off the human blood. You should go."

"We do need to talk, though, Stefan. I meant what I said. It's not that I stopped caring about you. It's not about anything you did or didn't do. I'm just not the same person I was."

"Elena, when a person falls out of love with another person because they became a serial killer, it is highly understandable but it _is _personal and it _is _about who I am and what I've done," he snaps.

He gives up packing altogether and throws me a look full of pain and tension.

"Please, you should go. I'm not at my best right now, and this is not how I wanted to say goodbye to you. I'll call you another time and we can talk."

I cross my arms. "No way. I'm not letting you leave like this. I want you in my life, Stefan, and even if you never forgive me for being with Damon, I want to see you. If you hate me and you want to yell at me, that's fine, but I think you still want me in your life too. I think you're doing this because you feel bad about attacking me."

"I _did _attack you, Elena, and I did kill people. A lot of people." He looks sick, his face twisted with emotion. "You're in love with Damon. Those are all huge things. We can't just ignore all that and be what, friends? Meet and play pool at the Grille? Really?"

"Yeah, it's not neat and simple, but that's life. Come on, Bonnie's my best friend, but it's because of me that her grandmother is dead. Matt is my ex, and Caroline's, and Caroline's boyfriend's best friend. Damon killed Matt's sister and turned her into a vampire and she was having relationships with Tyler, who's now dating Caroline, and with my little brother, and her ghost ruined his relationship with Bonnie." I threw my hands up in the air. "Come on, who in this town doesn't have baggage? But we get over it. We all care about each other and at the end of the day, we are all there for each other, no matter how we define our screwed up relationships with one another."

"I need time, Elena. Maybe a lot of it. And I need to get my own life sorted out before I can even start to figure out how I can fit into you and Damon's lives now."

I'm really trying to get through this without crying. Tears aren't going to help anything, and they'll make Stefan feel worse. I've hurt him so much already.

"Stefan, please." I go over to him and take his hand, even though he tries to pull away. "Just tell me what I have to do so I won't come between you and Damon."

"It is way too late for that, Elena," he says, watching me as if I'm a dangerous animal that is too close to his jugular.

"I can't be the thing that ruins your relationship with each other. I can't live with that. There has to be something." I'm begging, but I don't care. My dignity means far less to me than fixing the rift between them.

"Don't worry about us, Elena," Stefan says, and then sighs. "We'll be fine."

"You're not fine. "

He finally meets my eyes. "We've got a lot of experience with this love-hate thing. Believe it or not, it's actually better now than it has been in decades. It's easier when you're not in the room. Mostly."

"Stefan, if you need some time, that's okay. But I want you to promise me you aren't just going to disappear. I want to be able to call you and visit, and I want you to come back. You should have your family around you." I blink furiously. "I've lost all the family I have except my brother, too. I know how important it is to hold on to what you have left."

"Elena…" He looks away, but then gives in and puts his arms around me, hugging me close. One tear slips out but I look up at the ceiling and blink, forcing the rest of them back.

"You feel exactly the same," I whisper. "God, how do you feel exactly the same? You always gave the best hugs." I nuzzle my head into its place underneath his chin. It's true. Something about him is so comforting; warm and soothing. It's like his touch instantly lowers my blood pressure.

"I know that you think you've lost me because we're not dating, but that isn't true. You and Damon and Jeremy are the most important people in my life. This doesn't change that," I tell him fiercely.

I need both of them. They take turns protecting me, and trusting me to make it on my own. Take turns challenging me and indulging me. It's so selfish and I don't even care.

"You may not want it to, Elena, but it does," Stefan says.

"Only if you let it. I've lost so many people, Stefan," my voice is breaking, despite my best efforts. "I don't care if you hate me. I can't let you go."

I feel him slump. "Okay, Elena. Alright. Don't cry." He rubs my back in calming circles.

"Okay you're not going to leave?"

"Okay I'll come back. Eventually. And I'll call. You can visit if you want, but not at the same time as Damon. Not yet, alright?"

I nod vigorously against his chest.

He holds me for another moment before he gives me a final squeeze and steps back.

"Just tell me one thing."

Judging by the look on his face, I don't want to tell him whatever it is he wants to know.

"Go ahead," I tell him anyway.

"How long?"

"Officially? Since the day after you went cold turkey and he threw you through my window." It sounds bad when I say it aloud. _Since the day you attacked me._ "That's not why, though, Stefan. We were headed that way for a long time. I was fighting it because I was scared of what being with him would mean, and I still had feelings for you I was trying to sort out."

I rub my hands on the thighs of my jeans. "And I wanted to be sure that I wasn't just falling into his arms because I was lonely and upset after you left. I didn't _want_ to be Katherine and pull the brother switch. I wanted to just love one of you." My eyes beg him to understand. "It would have been so much easier if I could have just loved one of you. But I couldn't."

He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and rocks back on his heels, soaking that in. I get the feeling he's going to think about it more often than I want him to.

"You know," he says slowly. "You keep saying that this isn't because of what I did, but I just can't wrap my mind around that. I know you think it's because I hate myself for what I did, so I can't see why you wouldn't, and that's true But I also know you, Elena. You are one of the most moral people I've ever met."

Stefan meets my eyes, his head bent earnestly toward me. "I get why Damon forgives me. He had his switch flipped for so long that his sense of right and wrong is spotty at best and he's family. I know you think killing is wrong. So how do you get past that? Are you lying to me, or yourself, or both?"

"I'm not lying," I tell him firmly.

"It doesn't make sense, Stefan, I know. I hate that those people are dead. I hate that you did it, that Klaus twisted your love for your brother to make you do terrible things. I hate that you have to live with it, most of all." I squeeze his arm. "I wish I could bring them back. I can't. Neither can you. So there's no point in me trying to make myself hate you for it. It won't fix anything."

I shrug, struggling for words. "I don't know. That's the best way I know how to explain it."

He seems puzzled, but he lets it go.

"Can I ask you a question? It's something I've always been curious about."

"Of course," he says, though his eyes are as wary as mine must have been.

"Why do you respect my choices, even when they put me in danger? I don't believe you care any less about my safety than Damon does. But that's never made sense to me."

Stefan looks old inside his eye sockets.

"When I was human," he says quietly. "Katherine used compulsion to make me do…things. When she turned me, I remembered them. That was a big part of the reason that I drowned myself in blood as soon as I realized I could." He picks up something off the dresser. A blue piece of ribbon. He toys with it thoughtfully.

"There are some things that are worse than being killed, Elena. I would not take your choices away from you."

I don't know how to ask what I want to know. I'm pretty sure I don't have the right to. It isn't any of my business.

"But Damon…Why did he…" I trail off.

"She never used compulsion on Damon, so I don't think he holds the same views I do about it. I don't think he knew at the time that I was under compulsion. Damon lives by a very different set of assumptions than I do. That was true when we were human, as well. And he will do _anything_ for someone he loves. No limits." Stefan looks pained. "You shouldn't judge him too harshly for that."

I shiver. I don't want to know the details.

"It's been hard on him, loving both of us," I say quietly. "You shouldn't judge him too harshly for that, either."

Stefan doesn't answer, so after a while I ask, "So where will you go?"

"I'm going to try a meditation retreat. See where I can go from there. Probably not in America," he tells me.

"You're going to keep your cell phone?"

He nods reluctantly. "I will."

I nod too.

I hold my arms out hopefully. "One more?"

He only hesitates for a second before he wraps me up in his warmth and his familiar scent. I relax against him.

"Don't hate me," I whisper very quietly.

"I don't. I can't, Elena."

I make myself step back, scrubbing with irritation at my watering eyes.

"Come and see me when you're done packing, before you leave. Say a proper goodbye and let me cry all over you."

He nods, his handsome face set in lines of sorrow that I remember well from when we first met, when he wore sadness like a second skin.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

I grab my coat and backpack and let myself out before the lump in my throat gets any bigger.

Damon's Camaro is gone, and I have to drive for a few minutes before I trust my voice enough to call and check on him.

He doesn't pick up until right before it goes to voicemail.

"Hey. A little bit busy right now. Is everything alright?"

There's muffled music, like he's outside a bar. I hear a moan, like a pre-climax moan and Damon murmurs something I don't catch. I hear a female voice respond.

My jaw is hanging all the way open. "Are you with a woman?" I ask, so shocked I can't even properly react.

"Hold on a sec." He pulls the phone away from his mouth, but I can still hear him. "You're not going to remember this tomorrow. Not that you would have anyway. Run along now."

I pull the car over to the side of the road and try to figure out how to deal with this.

"I'm with an afternoon snack right now," he says in answer to my earlier question. "Or I was. And I'm considering starting a bar fight for the exercise. What's up? Did you iron out Stefan's terminally furrowed brow?"

His voice is light and careless. I need another minute. There's no way he is just with another woman because he's mad at Stefan and he thinks that's totally fine. Is there? He can't possibly. He wouldn't.

"You still there?"

I manage a moderately objective tone of voice. "Damon, I'm really trying not to do the jealous girlfriend thing right now, but that… that was a sex noise. A moaning woman sex noise."

The music fades a little, as if he's walking farther from the bar. "Not a sex noise. I can make it feel good when I feed, if I want to. Not a compulsion thing, or whatever. Just a thing."

"You can make it feel good?" I say neutrally. "That sounds a little like a sex thing."

"Just a vampire thing," he says dismissively. "Why, are you jealous?"

I bite my lip, then look at the roof of the car as if it will explain this situation to me.

"I'm sorry. For us non-vampire types, how, without it being sexual or with compulsion, do you make it feel good? I'm not trying to accuse you, I really just want to understand." I am not freaking out. I am going to discuss this calmly, like an adult and work it out.

"Come on, Elena, I'm not off fucking some girl," he says, annoyed. "Is that what you think of me?"

"No," I say. "That's why I am a little boggled at the woman moaning on the other end of the phone when you are in a bar."

"It's not that I don't understand the concept of monogamy," he says flippantly. "It just hasn't applied to me before now. No, so the biting thing. It's about the mood they're in. If they are scared, it hurts, even if I'm not rough. If they're not scared, it feels better. If they want to do it, for whatever _reason_, then it feels good."

There's just enough emphasis on the word reason for me to think that there might be reasons I do agree with and other ones he'd rather not tell me about.

I turn his words over in my mind.

"Hey, it's better than hearing a screaming, begging woman on the other end of the phone when I'm in a bar," he says philosophically. "But if you're still jealous, you should come down here and kick her ass. She's tiny. I bet you could take her. You should pull her hair. That'd show her."

"Shut up, Damon."

"No, I'm absolutely serious. You should be defending my virtue. She was totally throwing herself at me anyway. I could hardly defend myself. I had to take her blood just to weaken her so that I could run away."

"I thought she was tiny."

"Yeah, but tenacious," he says admiringly. "I still bet you could take her."

I roll my eyes and blow out a breath. "You're impossible."

"Oh, I'm easy enough if you ask the right way," he says. "How did it go with baby bro?"

"It went, I don't know. As good as I could expect it to, I guess. How are you doing?"

"Great now," he says cheerfully. "I like it when you get jealous. I think I might still be hungry. There's this blonde with huge tits who's watching me from the front porch of the bar right now."

"Damon, making me jealous is _not _a good relationship strategy," I say, exasperated.

"Maybe not, but it's better for my mood than a pint and a whiskey."

A pint of what, I wonder, and decide he probably doesn't mean beer.

"So is Stefan sticking around then?"

"No. We talked, which was good, because we really needed to, but he's still leaving. He's going to keep in touch, and he says he's going to come back…" I trail off, dropping my forehead against the steering wheel. "I think he hates me."

"It's harder than you think to hate you," Damon says, but his tone is more cynical than comforting. "It's like kicking a puppy. You _want _to do it, but it's all fluffy and cute and you just can't."

"Wait, why do you want to kick a puppy?" I ask. "Never mind. I don't think being cute is going to make Stefan not hate me."

"It can't hurt," Damon says. "He's really going, huh?"

"Yup."

We're both silent.

"Did you try crying?" Damon asks.

"I did the best I could, Damon, but I really don't know how to soften the blow of telling him I'm in love with his brother and we're having crazy hot sex every time someone leaves us alone for five minutes!"

"Well, it might help if you didn't use those _exact_ words," he points out, sounding pleased.

I laugh in spite of myself. "Of course I didn't actually say that."

"Elena?" His voice drops a register into that husky, gravelly tone that makes my inner muscles clench and moisten. "I love you."

I tip my head back against the seat and let the smile spreading across my face wash away the whole rest of my day. "I love you too, Damon."

* * *

_Author's Note: Thanks so so much to everyone who has been faithfully reading this story, and reviewing, following or favoriting it. You guys have no idea how much joy you've brought into my life by enjoying my writing and you have definitely inspired me to produce a lot more of it. We only have two more chapters of Inevitable, and because they make me smile, it is two whole chapters of sweet Delena. _

_In the meantime, I have a new story:_

_I've always been fascinated by the fact that actors have to simultaneously exploit and ignore their own nature when creating a work of visual fiction. So when I was reading Fifty Shades of Grey, I was struck by how making that (borderline pornographic) novel into a wide-release movie would be really challenging for the actors starring in the film. Especially if they weren't super comfortable with BDSM._

_ I wondered what would happen if the actor playing Christian Grey was sort of intrigued and sort of repulsed by the BDSM aspects of the script, especially since he is stuck acting them out no matter what his personal feelings are. The story is from the point of view of David Tate, an actor playing Christian Grey, going through the difficulties with filming and what it does to his personal life. It is a fun read also if you are at all interested in the process of filming movies._

_ You don't have to have read Fifty Shades of Grey to understand my story. If you did read it, you don't have to have liked it to like my story (no inner goddesses in evidence, you have my word). So please, please give it a try, even if it sounds bizarre. I worked really hard on it and I kind of love it and I want other people to love it too. If nothing else you pretty much have to fall in love with David Tate, the actor playing Christian Grey, cause he's so sweet. _

_The official description for the story is below:_

_David Tate just landed the lead role in the movie adaptation of Fifty Shades of Grey, but he's not ready for the places that filming is going to take him. Do you have the courage to watch as the kinky world of Fifty Shades of Grey takes his mind apart, one piece at a time? His beguilingly innocent co-star, Julia, only drags him deeper into this imaginary world that exists a little more than it should. What will it do to his relationship with Sophie, the beautiful actress he's dating? Can he escape this darkness that's blurring the line between his life and Christian Grey's? Does he want to? _


	31. Airport

_Author's Note: Ahhh, the final stretch. I think we'll go for the trifecta of fluff, smut and then some plot closure. Any takers?_

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Vampire Diaries or any of its characters, dialogue or plot. Warnings for explicit sex, violence and adult language, for this chapter and the whole story to come. These characters are not mine, nor is the universe._

**ELENA POV**

Damon shifts restlessly beside me and I bump him with my hip. He's been fidgeting through the entire waiting process.

"Chill. You know for someone who has all the time in the world, you don't have much patience," I tease.

We're at the airport, in the line for security and I'm quickly realizing that my new boyfriend is not a wait-in-line kind of guy.

He drops his eyelids and then flares them at me slightly, sensually. "I have plenty of patience. Given the right motivation."

I blush brightly. He had a _lot _of patience this morning. Which is why we didn't get to the airport early enough to avoid the long lines.

I turn away and move forward in line so he won't see my reaction but from his low chuckle, I know he didn't miss it. He steps forward too, standing close enough behind me to be just on the edge of propriety for public behavior.

He ducks his head so that when he speaks, his breath tickles the curve of my neck. "Remind me again why we're bringing Jeremy home and giving up an entire house full of privacy on demand?"

"Because I miss him. I want to have a family again," I say, my voice embarrassingly breathless.

"You're going to have to get better control over yourself, then," he murmurs into my ear. "Or I'll have to compel Jeremy into hearing impairment."

I fold my arms over my chest so that my hardening nipples won't show through my thin shirt and shoot Damon an exasperated glance. "You know, you got the girl. You can cool it on the flirting."

He gives me a beautiful smile. The female security officer handing out plastic tubs glances over and then misjudges her next hand-off, poking a man hard in the belly with a tub. He glares at her.

"What fun would that be?" Damon asks.

I press my lips together to suppress a smile and he guides me forward with one hand grazing the small of my back. Even that runs gooseflesh up my arms.

"Maybe Jeremy should live with Ric. Keep him out of trouble," Damon muses, taking a plastic tub from the security officer with a polite smile that makes her flush as red as I was a second ago.

"Jeremy's been really good lately. I think he's over his teen rebellion thing," I protest.

"I was talking about Ric," Damon says. He offers me the plastic tub. "My lady?"

I put my purse in, which he accepts with a practiced bow of courtly dignity, holding my eyes. I'm blushing all over again. Damon smiles as he tosses the tub carelessly onto the conveyer belt. I steady myself on his shoulder as I take off my boots and put them on the belt, too.

"You can't go through the detectors with metal or your shoes on," I remind him. I'm sure he's flown before, but he's making no moves to get ready.

He looks disdainful. "That's ridiculous."

He steps up to the rectangle of the detector and the security officer on the other side tenses at his obvious defiance of the rules. He smiles at the security officer.

"Unarmed. Not a problem."

The officer nods with a slight dazed look in his eye and waves off his co-worker, who has stepped forward.

Damon walks through with his normal long-legged arrogance, and the alarms go wild at the metal in his boots and jacket.

A woman on the other side with an infant is putting her things back together after having her car seat and bottles of formula scanned. She gives Damon a dirty look and he smiles apologetically.

"Air marshal," he whispers to her conspiratorially, his eyes sparkling. "Special privilege."

She nods vigorously, looking like she's just met a celebrity.

Damon turns back to check on me and his eyes flicker over the detector, which looks like a disembodied doorway. He comes back through, setting off the alarms all over again and before I even start to consider what he's doing, he's swept me off my feet and into his arms.

"Damon!" I squeak. "What are you doing?"

"Carrying you over the threshold. It's good luck." He turns sideways and brings us both smoothly through the detector.

The woman with the baby is smiling at Damon like he's just cured cancer.

"Are you two newlyweds?" she asks as he sets me lightly back on my feet.

He picks up a receiving blanket she dropped and tucks it into her overflowing shoulder bag, then reaches past her to retrieve my boots.

"No. I keep trying but tragically, she won't have me." He pouts in my direction, puppy-dog eyes and all.

I laugh and shake my head at him.

"You are too much, Damon Salvatore."

He puts my shoes on the floor and offers his arm for me to steady myself on.

I roll my eyes at the woman, laughing. "Don't listen to a word he says. He's a total ham."

She leans close and says in a stage whisper, "Honey, in my day, we called that beefcake." She picks up her baby and car seat and smiles at us. "Safe travels, you two."

Damon hands me my purse and takes our single carry-on bag. I slip my hand into his and he gives it a squeeze as we head for our gate. He catches me smiling down at the carry-on bag and raises an eyebrow.

"What?"

I shrug, but I can't suppress a smile. "I just think it's nice, that's all."

"It's just a bag." He looks disapprovingly at it. "Kind of a cheap bag, actually."

"No, it's nice that our clothes are packed altogether."

He smiles at me, a little surprised. "Oh."

I shake my hair in front of my face, lengthening my strides to match his. He's so much more experienced than me. I should at least attempt to disguise how infatuated I am with my new life. I just never pictured myself dating anybody like him and everything is so new, and so, so, good.

I suppress a sigh. I'm pretty hopeless at playing it cool.

"Did you bring those red, lacy panties? The ones that look like tiny shorts?" he asks.

"Damon, I think it might be possible to do permanent damage from blushing too much," I warn, bumping him with my hip. "Go easy on me, for goodness sake."

He bumps me back, softly. "Oh, I wasn't joking. You did, didn't you?"

I nod, hiding my smile behind my hair. "We're staying in a hotel instead of at the house with Jeremy, so we'll get one more night of privacy anyway."

"Just think," he muses in a low voice. "Those sexy little panties mixed in with my staid, dark jeans. They're probably corrupting them right now, showing them all kinds of racy new moves."

I check out his ass, which looks world-class in those jeans. "I don't think they're all that _staid_, Damon."

"Not with me in them, they're not."

I bring our clasped hands to my mouth and bite the base of his thumb playfully. "You buy an extra plane seat so we have room for your ego?"

He drops the carryon bag and sweeps me toward him with an arm around my waist. It looks like a hug, but he's holding me too close for it to be platonic.

"My ego isn't the only thing that gets bigger when you look at me like that."

My traitorous brain responds by flashing memories of me riding Damon in his giant bathtub. He was rubbing bubbles all over my bare breasts, tugging gently on my hair so I had to arch my back while he thrust into me.

He runs a hand down the curtain of my hair. "Easy, Elena, we're in public."

"I didn't do anything," I protest weakly, but his scent is making my head spin. It's leather and bourbon and a hint of blood and it drives me crazy and smells like home all at once.

"I think the janitor across the hall can hear your heartbeat," Damon chuckles. "What are you thinking about?"

I'm feeling devilish, so I stand on my tiptoes and whisper into his ear, "The Mile-High Club. Heard of it?"

He picks the carry-on bag up and reclaims my hand. "Elena, you know I don't believe in deferred gratification."

As we pass the janitor's cart, he plucks the "Bathroom Closed" sign off of it with so much confidence that no one protests.

"You certainly seem to believe in deferring mine," I grumble.

"Are you complaining?"

He swings us into a women's restroom, leaving the sign in front of the door. There is a woman at the sink who gasps when she sees him.

"Air marshal," Damon says in an authoritative voice. "I need this room."

* * *

_Author's Note: The last chapter of Inevitable is posted right now on my new website. It is a lovely lemon with a surprise Elijah twist toward the end. You don't want to miss it, so follow the link below: _

_ michellehazenbooks dot com __/ch-32-someone-to-watch-over-me/ _

_Also on my website is an exclusive deleted scene for Inevitable. And in a few days, there will also be an exclusive story, a hot, citrusy one-shot about vampire Elena and Damon sharing a snack. So save the link and check back soon because I won't be posting that particular story on this site._

_For the SEQUEL to Inevitable, check my page on this website for the story "Better Angels of Our Nature." It is a 4 chapter, 1 year later peak and Elena and Damon figuring out one of their major relationship issues._

_Thanks so much to everyone who has read and reviewed this story. The response has been the most rewarding experience I've ever had with writing, and it has changed my whole perspective toward what part I want writing to play in my life. It gave me the courage to go through with publishing my first book (which I did while writing Inevitable) and the courage to build this website and try to get my writing to a wider audience. So thank all of you so much, you've made a huge difference to me! _


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